The Mermaid's Daughter
by Ana Cardic
Summary: UPDATE! New chapter, in which stuff both happens and promises to happen soon.
1. The Little Mermaid

_A/N: I'm revamping an old story --- hopefully, it'll be good. :) Please, please... if you read, review. And mind, I'm not above bribery: you review me, I'll review something of yours. And remember --- your comments tell the story where to go. You want more humor, I'll add more humor. You want light and fluffy romance, I'll do that. You want something dark and seductive, I can go that direction. This is just for fun, so help me play with it!_

**PROLOGUE**

Once upon a time, there was a little mermaid. She fell in love with a human prince, with raven-black hair and a smile that made the sun pale in comparison. Her father, king of the sea, forbade this love, but she was not one to back down easily. As all mermaids, she loved deeply, fiercely, passionately, and would give up everything for him.

The sea witch gave her legs. She went to find her prince, silent and with painful steps, intent upon earning his love and a kiss before the sun set on the third day. She had paid a due price, and if she succeeded her life and voice were her reward.

The mermaid had not taken into account the prince's fiancee, for he had indeed been betrothed for many years, but to her this was no great obstacle. Love overcame all. He did fall in love with her. The kiss was one of true love, and she won her prize. The betrothed left quietly, angry but ever-gracious, and the prince and mermaid married, and lived in bliss for two years. At the end of those years, a daughter was born.

But evil plans had been concocted since their wedding, and were being put into place. The young king and queen were enlightened by a fortunate mistake, and they sent their daughter away in haste. They would not meet again for many years.


	2. Marina

**CHAPTER ONE**

"Marina Kingston?"

The voice was cheerful, professional, and quite bored. Butterflies performing impressive acrobatics in my stomach, I stood.

"That's me."

"Great. Come stand up here on the stage, please."

I handed the woman my quickly-typed resume, which she glanced over. Even I had to admit that it wasn't impressive. Two school plays, one in which I'd performed as a rabbit and another in which I was the queen's handmaid that waxed loquacious about the joys of recycling. In addition, I had been in a rather mediocre high school choir that I hadn't even had to audition for, because the director was so desperate for anyone who was willing to be in it. I didn't mention that last part, of course. I had a head shot attached to the resume, which was slightly better but far from professional --- a friend had taken several pictures and we'd picked the best one. Still, everyone started somewhere. Not that I wanted to "make it big" or anything. This play was something to do, something to get my mother to stop suggesting that I get involved in some extra-curricular activities. I wasn't sure whether she was concerned for my welfare or just wanted to make sure I wasn't in trouble while at the same time keeping me out of her hair. It might have been a harsh thought for a daughter to have, for as far as parents go, she'd been perfectly responsible and kinder than many --- I was adopted as a baby, and I supposed these qualities were pretty much requisite --- but I had never felt especially close to her, and she usually seemed to not know what to do with me. My dad had been different, but his memory was fading now --- he'd died from cancer when I was seven. Ten years can make memories as distant and elusive as snowflakes sometimes.

"Okay, go whenever you're ready," the woman said. I nodded, paused to remember what I was doing, and launched into my monologue. It was short, and when I was done she nodded in a bland way, first to me and then to the accompanist on the piano, and again told me to go ahead.

The song was from "Fiddler On The Roof," called "Far From the Home I Love." It was very pretty, and I sounded, I thought, pretty. Nothing special. I glanced down at the casting director. Clearly she disagreed. As far as she was concerned, "awful" wouldn't cover it. Her jaw was slightly slack, and eyebrows were raised in horrified shock. I faltered a bit --- nothing for the nerves like a good dose of realizing how horrible you sound --- and considered stopping right there. I'd read somewhere that you shouldn't do that, thought, and maybe she'd give me a small part with no singing if I managed to have grace under pressure. Or something.

At long last, I fell silent. She, and the man next to her, were both gaping. It was getting very embarrassing, very fast. I waited, feeling my face get red. Finally, the casting director opened her mouth.

"Well," she said. "Well." She blinked a few times. It was like hearing from some adult how "nice" your picture is, when you know full well that it's a piece of crap. I waited, and she said, "Thank you very much. You should be... You'll be hearing from us soon."

I thanked her politely, and made fast tracks out of there. I'd been an idiot to even try this. On my way out of the building, I heard a male voice saying, "Wait."

I stopped and glanced back. Yes, someone was looking at me. A very attractive someone.

"You talking to me?" I said.

"Yeah, I am," the guy said. Nice eyes. "Was that you in there?"

I nodded, feeling the embarrassment creep up again. They could hear you from out here.

"You're good," he said, with an approving nod. I froze, digested what he'd said, and then managed a smile.

"Thanks."

"Good luck."

"Yeah, you, too."

The air was cold on the way home and my jacket was thin, but I turned away from the road home and headed down to the beach. We'd moved here to Maine a year or so earlier, and having lived most of my life in Colorado, it was the first I'd ever seen the sea. I had immediately fallen in love. There was something about the pounding waves, the hugeness of it all, and its utter unpredictability that entranced me. My mother liked it as well, but, for some reason, didn't like my going down there alone. Not that that stopped me, of course --- I was a pretty un-rebellious teenager, and claimed going to sit by the water alone as one of my few marks of adolescence.

The wind whipped my hair around, and I perched on one of the several boulders that lined part of the water. The beach was entirely deserted now --- tourists were scarce this time of year --- and I sat and let the quiet soak into my body. I truly felt like some sort of sponge, and stared out at the waves until my mind had entirely quieted and the waves began to turn into one another, fluid and ever-changing. The overcast sky brought out deep green highlights in the water, and the nearby waves crashed with a soft roar of grey foam. Off, far in the distance, I saw a lone bird, dipping over the flat expanse, wings tilting to ride the currents of air he chose as his own.

The sun began to sink slowly down to the horizon, and regretfully, I came to myself and slid off the rock. My mom would worry if I wasn't home before dark. Eyes more on the changing lights of sunset, a faint orange glow behind the clouds, I made my way up the path back to the main road, and from there to our small, quiet house.

Dinner was on the table, with a note saying "Come get me when you get home --- how'd the audition go?" I hung up my jacket, lifted the lid on the frying pan to examine dinner --- stir fry --- and then made my way to Mom's office. She was a real-estate agent, an occupation I thought very boring but which she seemed to enjoy. Here, she mainly trafficked in timeshares, summer cottages, and second homes of the very wealthy. I couldn't see why on earth anyone would want to come to Maine only in the summer. Admittedly, it was freezing, and the people weren't nearly the warm and welcoming type I'd grown up with in the west, but the ocean was beautiful all year round, and there was still plenty to do in winter. This was, of course, coming from someone whose idea of a "good night out" was taking a book to a small cafe and reading for a few hours while sipping gourmet chocolate, but still. It wasn't totally flat.

She asked about the audition while we were eating, and I tried to sum up what had happened. I still wasn't sure if I was awful and that guy had been being sarcastic, or if I actually was good and the casting director was... shocked at the amazing quality of my voice? Hardly. I voiced this opinion, but she only laughed.

"No, you have a good voice," she said. "It's in your blood."

I raised an eyebrow at this. She had known my birth parents, and I had heard about them --- their names were Pearl and Ryan, gave me up because they were unmarried and too young to raise a kid, but were apparently not total losers because they both went onto college and apparently had led happy lives --- but had never met them and they were rarely mentioned. I was a little curious --- who wouldn't be? --- but I wasn't especially consumed with them.

"How so?" I prodded, after she didn't say anything more. She shrugged.

"Your birth mom sang," she said. "So did her mother, and her grandma, and so on until back until who knows when."

"Oh. Cool."

The subject changed, and Mom told me about a new sale she was making --- a client was considering buying a summer home, and had already requested to go through it four times. He had scheduled a fifth visit, and she really, really hoped he was planning on buying. The sellers weren't too inconvenienced, as they were in California, where they lived most of the year, but things were getting a bit out of hand.

After dinner, I went straight up to bed and pulled out a book. Ever since I was little, I've read before going to sleep. When I was really young, my dad would come in to turn off the light, then come back ten minutes later to take away the flashlight, and then come in five minutes after that to take away my other flashlight. Now, however, I'd been forced to develop some sense of responsibility, solely because my mom refused to go through the long charade, but wouldn't let me miss school in the morning because I was too tired. A few weeks of that and I learned my lesson. Tonight, I glanced at my stack of books and was decidedly disappointed at the lone unread volume I had there. The pile had dwindled sadly, as I hadn't gotten to the library in over a week, and after putting down the last book because it was positively insipid, I turned to an old favorite.

The book itself was beautiful and leather-bound, embossed with gold, but the story within was rather childish. "The Little Mermaid," non-Disney version. It had always been my favorite fairy tale, and I had loved the princess, in part because she looked a little bit like me, and in part because her name, like my birth mother's, was Pearl. The prince was never mentioned by name, but I rather thought the illustrations made him look like an Edmund: very stately and dignified.

When I glanced at the clock, it was almost midnight. There was school in the morning. I sighed and put the story away, and fell asleep to dreams of laughing merbabies and shimmering waves.


	3. The Voice

**CHAPTER TWO**

I haven't loved school since second grade. Around then is when I started to realize that I would be doing this same thing for the next million years of my life, and that, combined with a sub-standard teacher who did more than justice to the prefix "sub-" made me realize that there was more to life than school. I always kind of regretted this awakening, because I'd been obsessed prior to it, but that was the way the dice was thrown and I had to live with it. As a result of this, I spent most of my days being bored, getting good grades I didn't do much for, and wishing I had a real friend. I had friends of the average dime-a-dozen variety, of course, to see movies with and discuss boys, but it had been years since I had really connected with someone. I had always found myself a little different in the way I related to other people. When I loved someone, I loved them deeply and would do anything for them, but it was extraordinarily rare that anyone would earn such favor. Little satisfaction was ever gained from casual friendships, and I wished it were different.

These feelings hit home more forcefully a few days after my audition. I couldn't have said why. Maybe it was because my eighteenth birthday was coming up in a few months and I had begun seriously looking around for colleges, and realized that there was no one besides my mom that I would be sad to leave behind. Maybe it was because as I looked around the cafeteria, there were lots of cuddling couples, and I hadn't had a boyfriend in three years and was feeling sorry for myself. Whatever the reason, by the time I headed home my mood had turned completely melancholy.

Without much thinking about it, I turned off the main road and parked my car by the path leading down to the beach. I needed somewhere to sit and indulge the doom and gloom atmosphere that was swirling around in my head like so much fog, and one of my boulders seemed like a good option. The boulders and I had developed quite a relationship over the past year. I sat, they sat. I grew colder, they were usually cold. I was soft, they were solid, and together we managed to merge into the water and sand and sky that surrounded us.

I don't know how long I sat there. I had sunk into a sort of meditative trance, watching the late afternoon light turn the tips of waves to diamonds, not thinking about anything, when I heard singing. It took a moment to register, for it seemed utterly natural in that environment, as though it were as part of the surroundings as my rock and I. The voice was high, almost eerie, and rich, like the ocean itself, and I listened, bemused. It was a woman's voice, certainly, but I could not tell where it came from. The road above was deserted, the beach an empty expanse, and nothing could be seen over the water but clouds, the sun, and air.

I slid from the boulder and landed on the soft, cool sand. The water lapped along the wet, dark ground invitingly. I wanted to dive into it, and although I knew full well that doing so would be utterly stupid, as it was bound to be freezing and I was a very poor swimmer, the temptation proved almost too strong. Instead I kicked off my shoes and waded into the shallow edge, the water barely rising above the bottom of my feet. It was cold, absolutely, but I didn't flinch. A step deeper --- still the cold didn't cause any kind of recoil. I moved deeper and deeper, a small part of my mind considering the possibility that I'd gone insane at last, but most of my attention was on the voice. The song was enchanting, hypnotic, and before I knew it, the ground was gone from my feet and I was treading icy water, my brain losing control of itself and floating away to some misty shore.

Things went black at last, although I wasn't particularly conscious of it as it happened. I have a vague recollection of hands gently grasping my body, guiding me through swells of the sea, of sun, a blue sky, and stars, but remember nothing clearly of that time. When I awoke, I lay for a time on soft, sun-drenched sand, watching greenish reeds waving in the breeze. It was comfortable, and deeply quiet. I could hear the reeds, the waves, and the occasional far-off cry of a bird, but nothing else disturbed the stillness.

Where was I? The thought slowly reached the top of my brain, like an answer in a Magic Eight ball, and when at last it fully penetrated my mind, I sat bolt upright. What had I done? I'd jumped into the waves, like some idiot, gone and half-drowned myself, surely, and now... Now I'd washed up on some beach that had a considerably warmer climate than Maine? The likelihood of that seemed ridiculously slim. Perhaps I'd been drugged, and some pervert was sitting around just waiting for me to wake up so he could... Did I have my clothes on? A quick check reassured me on this count --- I did indeed have my own clothing, and it was very wet and sandy and uncomfortable. Another glance around helped not at all to determining a location. I was on an totally unfamiliar stretch of land, by a totally unfamiliar stretch of richly blue sea, next to a totally unfamiliar rock-studded hill that led up to a totally unfamiliar forest. The entire scenario was unnerving at best.

"Marina," said a soft voice. I screamed and jumped, then whirled around, thinking as I did so of what I could use as a weapon. What I saw surprised me. It was a woman sitting on a rock, a beautiful woman with wild blonde hair and strong features. She looked Scandinavian, with her sun-kissed complexion and vivid blue eyes, but was clothed in a gown that made me think of a Greek goddess, with folds and folds of teal silk and silver cording criss-crossed on the front. I stared at her for a moment, and then she smiled and stood. I took an involuntary step back.

"Who are you?"

Her smile widened. She had dazzling teeth --- not particularly white, but strong, and even. "My name is Nereida," she said. Her voice was smooth and musical. "Do not fear me --- I mean you no harm."

"Where the heck am I?" I asked. My voice came out rough and modern, in some sort of subliminal protest to her cultured tones. I couldn't decide whether I trusted her or not. On the one hand, the whole thing was suspicious, and the prom dress was just... weird. On the other, there was something about this woman that inspired respect, at least, and she didn't seem like she would hurt me --- although she probably could if she wanted to. And prom dress or not, the gown suited her much more than you would expect such a thing to suit anyone sitting randomly on a beach.

"Merlana," she said. "The Palais beach, to be more precise."

"Merlana," I repeated slowly.

"Merlana. It's a country."

"Right." I paused, looked around, then turned to meet her gaze. "Never heard of it."

"I know," she said. She nodded. "It's unfortunate, but it was for your own protection. I'm sure you're in need of both rest and an explanation," she added, clearly noticing my expression. "We will be glad to provide both if you'll just follow me." She beckoned and started to turn. I stopped her.

"Wait. No. Who are you?"

She looked sympathetic. I didn't want her pity --- I wanted to go home. The woman, Nereida, merely beckoned again.

"Marina," she said, "I understand this may be a bit of a shock. Now, listen. I can try and explain the whole thing to you here, now, and try to deal with your confusion and probably irritation and all other emotions that must inevitably follow such a conversation, while you're sitting there in those wet clothes which will probably begin to itch soon, or you can come up to the palace, have a nice bath and meal, and have your foster mother explain everything to you."

"My what?"

"Foster mother. Lisette Kingston, or Lisa, as I believe you know her. She's not here yet, but we expect her to arrive at any moment."

I stared at the woman. "You kidnapped my mom?"

A low laugh emerged from her throat like a dark butterfly, though the metaphor was so ridiculous I banished it on the spot. "No. No, she's from here."

"She's from Detroit."

The laugh came again. "How dismal. No, I assure you. Now, come along. I don't know you that well but I can almost guarantee that you'd be more comfortable at the palace than right here."

A palace. She was either completely crazy, or I was having an extremely strange dream. It couldn't be the latter, because my dreams were never this coherent, ever, and I barely remembered them when I awoke. Moreover, the vast majority of the ones I remembered were in third person, and right then, I was definitely me. It was a bizarre situation, but my curiosity was up. A palace was enough to do that, and much as I hated to admit it, she was right --- my clothes itched.

"Fine," I said. "I'll come with you. But I think you should know that I think you're completely bonkers."

"You're free to think that," she said, sounding amused. "You'll understand everything soon enough. Come along."


	4. The Palace Merlana

**CHAPTER THREE**

There was a palace. It became visible as soon as we reached the top of the hill, having made our way up a gravelly path lined by grasses. Its gleaming white stone towers rose above the trees of the thin green forest, catching the sun and sparkling like a giant seashell. It was beautiful. My breath caught in my throat. Nereida had glanced back to see my reaction, and she smiled, clearly pleased.

"That is the Palace Merlana," she said. A warm smile crossed her features. "Welcome home."

Those words brought me back to reality with a jolt.

"Excuse me?" I said sharply. What was even more disturbing than this incredible pronouncement, however, was how little resistance I felt to the idea. It did seem like home somehow. There was certainly something familiar about it, anyway, though that could have been the after-effects of swallowing too much seawater.

"Here," Nereida said, draping a gauzy gray cloak around my shoulders. "This'll help you blend in. I'm afraid we don't have many blue jeans here." Trying to gauge whether this was an insult to my attire, I wrapped it around myself. The fabric was smooth and cool. "Come on." She started walking again, and I hastened to catch up. Well, if I _was _being kidnapped, I could think of worse places to be held hostage in.

There was a long wall running around the palace, of the same creamy stone. I saw as we approached through the trees that it was smooth save for the top, where carvings made an elegant border. I tried to make out the figures as we drew closer, and when we were quite near, saw that the pictures were of beautiful and wild mermaids, of seashells, of the sun breaking over a horizon of water, all the images swirling and flowing into one another. I gazed at it in silence until we reached a great gate of gold. There was no one nearby, but I could hear voices, very faint behind the high wall but there nonetheless.

"I must apologize for the lack of ceremony with which you are being brought back," Nereida said, one hand on the gate. "Their Majesties thought it best for your safety."

I raised an eyebrow. "Okay."

A faint smile crossed her face. "I assure you, this will all be explained in due course." She pressed lightly on the gate, and sang a short wordless tune. I recognized the voice immediately.

"You," I said, at the same time realizing that this should have been obvious from the start. "On the beach."

She nodded. "Yes." At this point doors were open, and I followed her through, lost for words as I gazed in wonder at the sights and sounds --- all bright and loud as life --- around me. Women in gorgeous dresses of all cuts and fabrics, but mostly light and in soft colors, were sweeping around the giant courtyard we stood in, accompanied by men in similar light costume. White stone, polished and worn, stretched to every direction until it was cut short by the castle in front, and on either side, lush green lawn studded with fruit trees and flower beds. An enormous fountain of the same stone as the palace stood in the middle of the courtyard, shrouded in a fine rainbow mist, depicting a mermaid and a handsome man wrapped in a graceful embrace, rising out of a dramatic spray of water that reached up to surround them and then dropped back down to splash into a pool lined in glass tiles of every shade of blue and green and purple and gold imaginable. A collection of young men sat around the edge of the pool, tan and laughing with the ease of those capable of dealing with whatever life threw at them. I noticed dagger sheaths strapped on the belts that bound their tunics. The whole scene was both medieval and modern, too dazzling to be real but too real to be an illusion.

Nereida took my hand and guided me gently but quickly across the courtyard, nodding at a cluster of people in greeting but not stopping to talk to anyone. We went up a wide flight ot stairs, littered with people of all shapes and sizes, and to the pair of double doors that led into the impressive building. They opened smoothly at her knock, and we stepped into the cool, lightly shadowed entrance hall. Sunshine poured through high windows onto a shining marble floor, striping it with light and shade in between the tall marble pillars that lined the room. Several large paintings hung on the walls, beautiful and slightly abstract, all clearly related to the sea.

There were several people in the hall, some looking at us, some absorbed in their own conversations. A man in a shirt of smoothly draped linen came up to us and bowed deeply. He seemed like he was bowing to _me,_ and I hastily made an awkward half-curtsy that came out completely wrong.

"Welcome home, Your Highness," he said. I gave Nereida a look, but she gave me one in return that was so stern that I merely thanked him as graciously as I could. He was a fairly good-looking man, probably in his forties but athletic and unusually healthy, as were most of the people around here. I couldn't quite tell who he was, but he seemed to have a certain deference for Nereida... whoever she was.

"My lady," he said, inclining his head to her. She nodded in response in a way that reminded me of a Jane Austen film. He continued, "The princess's chambers are prepared. Lady Lisette arrived moments ago, and insisted upon being taken to Her Highness's dressing room. I trust that is agreeable?"

"Exactly as I wished it," Nereida said. "And Their Majesties --- have they been alerted?"

"Yes, my lady."

"Very good." She nodded at him, and he turned and bowed to me again.

"It is an honor to see you again," he said. I smiled. What was a person supposed to say to that? The only replies that were coming to mind were most impolite. "My name is Jacob," he added. "I am an assistant to the King."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," I said, extending a hand. It seemed the reasonable thing to do. I expected him to shake it, but instead he bowed again, deeply, and kissed the back.

He retreated, and Nereida led me down the room to another set of stairs. I couldn't have figured out where I was if my life depended on it; I was too busy staring at the paintings and sculptures that lined the halls we went through, catching glimpses of rooms, with grand pianos, long polished tables, chandeliers with real white tapers in them, and views out windows that showed forest, orchards, and a city down a long hill with rooftops that glinted in the sun like new coins. Beyond all of this was the ocean, always visible. Everything was so light and clean and fresh. I was silent, and Nereida was content to let me be so.

At last we arrived at a door of light wood. Nereida pushed it open. There was a couch, table, a window that looked out over land and sea, and...

"Mom!"

I dashed inside, realizing for the first time just how unsettled I was. She was sitting on a sofa by a fireplace, and stood to hug me tightly. I let her rock me back and forth for a few moments before I realized that she was wearing a gown, similar to the others and had seen outside. Hers was lavender, a pleated swathe draped over one shoulder and a long skirt of the same fabric brushed the ground. It looked entirely strange on her.

"What's going on?" I asked. She smiled gently. I noticed how young and relaxed as she seemed, and how soft. Lisa Kingston had been professional and put together, but Lisette, as Nereida was now calling her, was gently and graceful, and much more comfortable in her own skin than I had ever seen.

"Lisette," Nereida said. "I'm so glad you got here safely." They embraced briefly, exchanging some European double-kiss on the cheeks.

"So am I," my mother said. "I wish you could have let me know when you were getting her --- I had to cancel a showing and turn over the final signing on a house to someone else." She smiled as though entertained by the idea. Nereida shrugged.

"The inconvenience of sworn enemies and spurned lovers."

"Oh, indeed."

I glanced from one to the other. My mother had never used the word "indeed" in her life.

"Mom," I said sharply. The sight of her had been comforting, but this was not so much. "What's going on?"

She glanced at me. "You'd better sit down." She sank back into the sofa and patted the seat net to her. Nereida made to leave, but Mom stopped her.

"You can stay, if you like. I may need some help explaining."

I sat down on the proffered seat as Nereida settled herself across from us in another identical couch. This furniture suited the room perfectly. In fitting with the ocean theme of the entire palace, it was in cool colors, blues and greens, grays and purples, with soft hints of pink peeking out here and there. There was a table between Nereida and the two of us, and I examined the patterns of mother-of-pearl inlaid into the dark wood, trying to calm the spinning feeling all through my body.

"Where to start?" Mom asked. She shook her head. "I've been dreading this day... I feel very guilty about the whole thing." She looked at me. "Before you freak out, remember that the whole purpose of this was to keep you alive and out of some miserable tower like that poor Rapunzel girl."

My look must have expressed everything, because she laughed.

"I know, sounds ridiculous, doesn't it? Well, anyway... I guess it starts with your parents..."

_**A/N: **__**InChrist-Billios** --- Thanks so much for the lovely compliments:) I've been trying to improve my descriptions, and I'm glad you noticed them!_

_**Scoutcraft Piratess** --- Ah, you're catching on. Yeah, the mom has a bit of a story behind her --- next chapter. :) I was wondering if that last line in the Chap. 1 would be a bit too much --- hopefully this one doesn't do it again, lol. (If it does, by all means let me know... there's a fine line and I can never tell what crosses it.) Anyway, thank you the wonderful reviews!_

_To anyone else lurking out there --- please review!_


	5. Explanations

**CHAPTER FOUR**

"Their names were Pearl and Ryne."

"I know," I said, then added, frowning, "I thought it was _Ryan._"

"I told you that because it's a more common name in the United States." She tapped on the soft arm the couch in a gesture I recognized as one she used when nervous. "I also lied about... well, about who they were, in about every aspect. They were married, weren't in their teens when you were born --- your mother was twenty, your father twenty-four, both old souls --- and neither went to 'college,' although both are very educated. Well, I supposed they'd have to be, wouldn't they?" She looked amused. "They're the king and queen here, which probably won't surprise you."

This was ridiculous. Completely, totally, utterly ridiculous. And yet, for some reason, I believed her. I couldn't have said why --- there were, as far as I could see, no reasons for doing so --- but I knew she was telling the truth.

There was a brief silence, during which I stared at the table, not wanting to meet anyone's eyes. What exactly did this mean, for me, and for my mom? She was my mother, much more than this Pearl person. Sure, we didn't always connect, and I sometimes felt an awkward sort of distance... well, this would explain it, wouldn't it?... but living with someone for seventeen years, with all the bedtime stories and chauffering and scraped knees that entailed, couldn't be shrugged off lightly.

"You know that book you have?" she said, breaking into my thoughts. "The Little Mermaid?"

I nodded.

"True story. They're your parents."

No wonder the castle had seemed so familiar. I remembered it now: a watercolor sketch of a shining palace on an island, ringed by a wall and forest. The prince's palace.

Again, it was ridiculous --- stupid --- impossible. And again I knew it was true.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Looking relieved at my lack of outburst, Mom said, "It wasn't safe. That's the same reason you weren't raised here."

"What does that mean, 'safe'?" I asked. I glanced from Mom to Nereida and back again. "What's going on?" Out the window behind us I just caught a glimpse of a seagull coasting past the castle on some gust of air. For a brief moment, I longed for his freedom.

"You know the end of the story, where the prince's fiancee leaves him to the mermaid?"

"Yeah."

"Well, she did leave. We thought she'd left graciously --- that surprised me, you know. I'd never liked her. It turns out, however, that she was just busy planning revenge. Her name is Rochelle, and she is... she is _not_ a nice person."

"She never wanted to marry the king for love," said Nereida. "Although heaven knows she tried to seduce him enough. He almost fell for it. But she was after land, and power."

I frowned. The ocean could be seen on either edge of this island --- distantly, to the back of the palace, for there was the city there. It was a small city, though, and beautiful as it and the castle were, it didn't exactly seem a gold digger's paradise.

"Sorry," I said. "It's gorgeous and everything, but ---"

"Merlana is much larger than what you see here," Mom said, nodding. "And very wealthy, and very powerful. Ther monarchs hold authority and magic, the likes of which even most of the court does not fully comprehend."

"Magic," I repeated. Well, duh. Mermaids weren't exactly suburban.

"Huge amounts," Nereida said. "Which you will inherit."

This was a new thought, not, perhaps, original, but coming to me for the first time in all its import. If Ryne and Pearl were king and queen, that made me... princess. Which equaled future queen, as there appeared to be none of those chuavanistic laws that forbade women on the throne here.

"So," I said. "This Rochelle was going to do what?"

"Kill you," said Nereida calmly.

Nice.

"She's tried several times already."

Even better.

"Your adopted father ---" she started, but stopped abruptly at a violent gesture from my mother. This, of course, got my immediate attention.

"What?"

"Never mind," she said, shaking her head and getting that closed off look I knew too well. I wasn't about to give up that easily. This was weird enough; I wanted all the information I could get.

"_What?_"

"Nothing."

"Mom."

"She'll find out sooner or later," said Nereida quietly. Mom pursed her lips. Finally:

"She murdered Robert," she said in a carefully neutral voice. "Or Roberto, as he was known here."

Dad. An image passed through my head of him, pale and thin, lying in bed.

"No, she didn't," I said, too quickly. Her eyes were distant. I didn't like it. "Cancer ---"

"Was how we disguised it. She'd hidden a spider in your bed. A hobo. Not unsual, but it was under her control, and she'd... done something to it. Made it lethal, very lethal. It was supposed to get you, but bit him instead." Her voice grew dark. It frightened me. My mother was always in control, and strong. She'd been sad after his death, but she'd moved on, or so I'd thought. Apparently I was wrong. It wouldn't have been the first time, clearly. "A slow death, painful, with no remedy."

"I'm sorry," I said after a moment. I felt incredibly guilty... but how could you apologize for something like that?

"It's not your fault," she said, patting my on the hand, her customary hesitation returned. "Anyway," she continued briskly, "Roberto never regretted it, and never would. He'd promised Ryne he'd protect you, and he did. He was a knight, you see."

"The greatest knight in the realm," Nereida said. "His Majesty's most loyal and courageous. And your foster mother is Her Majesty's closest friend. That's why they were selected as your guardians. Well-chosen for the task, if I may say so."

Mom smiled. "Well, anyway," she continued. "Rochelle's not gone. She's never been formally accused of everything, at least not after the first assassination attempt."

I was under threat of assassination, not murder. How prestigious.

"Our sources have always been vague and shadowy, often magical," Nereida said. "It's hard to accuse with so little proof, especially against such a powerful nation and queen." Mom nodded.

"So she's still at large. There haven't been any attempts in recent years, so we're all hoping she's tired of these petty games." Her voice was bitter. I wanted to comfort her somehow, but didn't know what to do.

"So why am I here now?" I asked.

"You're almost eighteen," Mom said.

"And?"

"At that age the descendants of Merlan --- first kind of Merlana --- begin to recieve their inheritance and start training in earnest," Mom said. "But why you came just now, I don't know. Nereida?"

"The tides told the shephards that it would be a good time. Rochelle is busy with internal politics and a new lover, and it's unlikely she's giving much thought to this right now. She knows it's about time, of course, but we let it out in subtle channels that we inend to bring her home --- you home, excuse me, Highness --- on her --- your --- birthday."

"I see," said Mom, while I tried to adjust to the idea of my new title. I shivered. Nothing here was familiar. Nereida, strong and beautiful and totally foreign, and my mother, suddenly vulnerable and connected with magic and mermaids and a mysterious sunlit island, sat around me, each spinning such tales as would seem the products of nightmare had I not been so totally convinced that they were true.

"What kind of training and inheritance are we talking?" I asked, for something to say. Nereida stood.

"You'll hear all about it later," she said. "I would endeavor to answer your questions now, but I've just noticed the time, and you'll be needing to get ready for dinner. And to meet your parents, of course." She dipped a brief curtsy, while I blinked in an idiotic manner.

"Come on," Mom said as Nereida left. "I'll help you dress. It was suggested that servants be sent up, but I thought you mind handmaidens a bit awkward at first."

I nodded. "Thanks." She stood, and I followed suit. A thought struck me, and I said, "What's my name?" At her quizzical look, I said, "Well, Ryan is Ryne, Dad's Roberto, you're Lisette; am I Maren or something?"

She smiled and shook her head. "No. You're still Marina --- a bridge between land and sea. None of your parents --- and I include Roberto and myself in that, if I may be so bold --- thought it unfair to take that away from you."

"Oh," I said, then added, "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now, come on. I'll get the bath running. You'll find a bathrobe in your bedroom, through that door. Do you want to rummage through your clothing or shall I pick something out for you?"

"You go ahead," I said. "I have no idea what's... you know. Appropriate."

"Right. Hurry up, now. I'm sure they'll be anxious to see you again."


	6. Pearl and Ryne

**CHAPTER FOUR**

I was not in a hurry to get down to the dining hall. Surprising, you'd think, as my real parents, the King and Queen of Merlana, were awaiting to recieve me with open arms --- as though I were a character in an improbable movie --- but I didn't want to see them. I felt nothing but bewilderment, and wanted more than anything to climb into the luxurious four-poster bed I found in my room and sleep. Maybe if I could, I'd wake up to find myself back in the comforting familiarity of home. I would have tried it, but time was apparently pressing, and I didn't have the strength to resist its demands. I almost despised myself because of this limpness, then realized that I didn't have energy for that, either.

As I stared out the window, drying my hair, looking out over the water, the entire scenario hit me with a pounding sense of numbness. Not numbness, exactly, but such total and profound confusion as to render the emotions similar. This could not be happening, but when I stubbed my toe on the chest by the window it really hurt, I could see that the wallpaper was peeling in a corner of the bathroom, and beneath the scent of roses that permeated my bedroom I could detect a hint of something like cats. It wasn't a bad smell, really, but I hated it for convincing me that I was, in fact, awake and alive. My dreams didn't come with smells, and though I tried to entertain the idea that I was actually in a coma or something from having swallowed too much seawater, I'd never heard of someone in a coma coming up with such a strange and detailed story. Perhaps I was dead... The notion didn't last long, although I almost thought I could deal with it better.

So here I stood, a princess, expected to start some vague training and then inherit a throne of an island no one had ever heard of. Like anyone else, I'd daydreamed about being a Her Highness clothed in pink silk, but this reality was making me feel ill, and frozen, and shivery, all at once.

"Here," Mom said, coming up behind me. She held up a dress for my inspection, a sumptuous affiar in layers of deep teal chiffon and embroidered with silver. I looked at it blankly, and she sighed. "Honey, I'm sorry about all of this."

I didn't say anything. She gave me the gown. "There's a screen over there in the corner. Go change, and then I'll fix your hair."

I nodded. "Mom?"

There was a brief silence, and then she said hesitantly, "Marina, I don't think... I think you need to call me Lisette from now on." Hurriedly, she went on, "I still love you, and I always will. But... But your real mother is here now."

I bit my lip and nodded, not meeting her gaze. She nudged me gently. "Go on."

Once behind the screen, I blinked rapidly to fight back the tears. They came anyway: three of them, burning trails down my cheeks. I couldn't cry, not now. When you were stressed, you were supposed to focus on breathing, right? In through the nose, out through the mouth, slowly. There.

When I was sure I appeared calm, I stepped out from behind the screen. Mom --- Lisette --- nodded, a faint smile on her face.

"You look lovely," she said. With no further words, she sat me down at a table and began to comb through my hair. I closed my eyes and focused on the sensation. It was soothing. I hadn't really had anyone do my hair since I was very young, and with the ticklish tuggings and occasional prick of pain that roamed my scalp came other sensations, of being young and safe and on top of the world. She pulled it back and clipped it with --- what else? --- a seashell, polished to a fine sheen and edged in silver.

"There," she said. "Come along."

"I don't want to," I said. My voice came out in a pathetic little whisper, and I cleared it in frustration. "Can't this wait until tomorrow?"

"No," she said. "They've been waiting many years to see you, and if I know Pearl, she's already down there sitting on the edge of her seat and biting her nails." She crouched down until she was at my eye level. I was again struck with how different she seemed. Despite the new softness, she was stronger, too, strong in a real way instead of the brisk professionalism I had always known. "Marina, I know this seems awful. I've wished this day would never come many times because I know you and I knew you wouldn't like it. But you'll grow to see how wonderful this place really is, I promise you. I've missed it more than words can say. I've missed your parents, too. They're good people."

"I'm sure they are," I said. She raised her eyebrows.

"Ah, the teenage sullenness I know and love."

This, at least, was familiar. A small smile crept onto my face.

We walked down to the dining hall mostly in silence. Finally, we stopped at a door brushed with gold leaf. "Here we are," she said.

"You're coming too, right?"

"Of course."

I was flooded with relief, which quickly dissipated into tenseness as she opened the door, nudging me through and following behind. I stood still, as Mom --- Lisette, her name was Lisette now --- stepped forward. There was a short shriek, and a tall, elegant woman with long black hair stood and rushed over to us in a whirl of blue silk.

"Lisette!" she exclaimed, and within seconds the two were in a tight embrace. They pulled away as one and started jabbering. It was liking watching two girls meet at school after summer vacation. I watched with morbid fascination.

"Nereida said you'd arrived, but I couldn't really believe it because it's been so ---"

"--- I know, and as soon as I heard ---"

"--- You're actually here ---"

"--- and it's been forever, it seems like ---"

Amidst more talking, they hugged again. Lisette nudged the woman and gestured to me, and they fell immediately silent. It might have been comical, but I was in no mood for laughter.

Her eyes were piercing, a blend of blue and green and quite dark. I was surprised at how much of myself I saw in her face. Same hair, definitely, same mouth, same bones. Our noses were different, but I soon saw where I had got mine as a man came to stand next to her. I had his eyes, too, dark and thickly lashed. They were both beautiful, like all the other people I had seen here, and they gazed at me. It was getting to be quite uncomfortable when the woman held out a hand. I took it hesitantly. She didn't shake it, just held mine in hers.

"Welcome home," she said, in a low voice.

The man bowed. This was an unusual way to be greeted by an long-lost father, I thought, but I supposed it could have been worse. He could have tried to hug me.

There was an awkward silence, which Lisette broke by saying cheerily, "Well, I for one am glad that's over with."

Pearl laughed, and let my hand fall.

"I'm sorry," she said. Her voice was melodious. "This must have been a very trying day for you."

I nodded. When no one seemed to be telling me what was and wasn't appropriate to say, I ventured, "Yeah, just a bit."

She looked sympathetic. "We'll try to make it up to you."

"Let's start with dinner," the man --- Ryne --- said. His voice, too, was musical, although much less than Pearl's. "Mabelle claims she's been slaving all day over this meal, so I suggest we all appreciate it." He paused, then added with emphasis, "Loudly."

"She's still here?" said Lisette, looking delighted. "Some things never change, thank goodness."

"She keeps on insisting that she'll quit soon," he said. There was something nice about his mouth --- he didn't seem particularly jovial, but he seemed to have a smile hidden inside somewhere, just out of reach. I kind of liked it.

"Again, some things never change." Lisette turned to me. "Mabelle's the head cook," she said. "Commander of a vast legion of scullery maids, and to be quite honest I think she ranks higher than most of the royal advisors as far as being in charge of things."

I got my first look at the room as we went to the table. I was rather shocked I hadn't noticed it before, for the walls were made of glass, clear and stained, set in pillars of stone. There were no real pictures displayed, just geometric designs in green near the floor and blues and oranges at the ceiling. In the middle, there was merely a wide band of smooth, clear glass. The room was seperate from the rest of the castle, and outside sat a flower garden vibrant with color, beginning to be tinged a soft yellow by the sinking sun.

"Do you like this?" asked Ryne, smiling slightly. I nodded.

"It's beautiful."

"My father designed it. Originally it was intended to be out on the edge of a peninsula of the island, but as that's a bit far from the castle the plan was abandoned for the flower garden."

"It's a good alternative."

He smiled at me, and sat down at the table. Pearl was already sitting, and I was relieved to see that, royalty or not, we were not to be waited upon by servants standing behind our chairs as though they had nothing better to do. I settled where Lisette directed me, beside Pearl and across from herself. She gave me a reassuring smile.

A moment later, as I was trying to free my arms from my full sleeves --- long and slitted, but clasped vexingly around the wrist --- a woman came out of a door, not too far from the one we had entered by. She was rather plump, with the proverbial rosy face and frizzing red hair which she had attempted to tame into a bun. She carried a large wooden bowl, intricately carved, and behind her came, as Lisette had said, a legion of scullery maids. Their uniforms were a chocolate brown color, quite elegant, really, and each girl bore a bowl or tray of something. There was, I noticed, neither meat nor fish among the dishes. This was fine by me; I liked neither.

"Majesties," she said with a crisp nod. She set her bowl on the table, which seemed to be a signal for the maids to do the same. They were all casting glances at me, some more tactfully than others, and I was relieved when Mabelle waved her hand and they disappeared back through the door.

Mabelle curtsied to me. "Highness." She blinked rapidly. "Oh, Highness, you'll all grown up, and so pretty. Well, I expected that, of course, you were a lovely baby, but... Oh, you look just like your mother. Well, the palace has been a much darker place without you, if I may say so, and I for on am glad you're back." She said this last bit almost defiantly.

"Thank you," I said. "I'm glad to be here." I was starting to catch on to the graciousness I was to be expected to assume, and saw I had not thought wrongly when Lisette nodded her approval.

"Well, I'll leave you to enjoy your meal, then," she said. "It was planned especially with you in mind. Lady Lisette sent word what your favorite dishes were, and I'm afraid I couldn't figure pizza out, nor root beer --- though I think you're a mite young to be drinking such things! --- but everything else should be to your tastes." She curtsied again. I couldn't repress a smile.

"Thanks. I appreciate it."

She sniffed loudly, and left the room hastily, muttering to herself. I thought I heard Ryne give a snort of laughter, but when I looked, his face was composed as ever.

"And that," said Lisette, "is Mabelle. She runs this place, never doubt it."

"Nor would any of us want things differently," Ryne said. Pearl nodded.

"But come, Marina," she said, almost shyly. "Tell us about yourself. I'm afraid we don't know you at all, other than what Lisette passed on."

"What do you want to know?" I asked, glancing up at her and then returning to my plate, which held a scattering of all sorts of various dishes which I assumed were supposed to resemble such things as stir fry and pasta with chunky sauce, and all of which missed the mark entirely, though not in a bad way.

"Anything," she said. "Everything. What do you like to do?"

I shrugged. "I read a lot, listen to music, spend time online. Nothing spectacular."

She shot Lisette a puzzled look. "Online?"

"Computers," Lisette said, and Pearl nodded, a look of mild comprehension on her face.

"Oh, yes, those. I see. Yes, I recall you telling me about them. Interesting things."

I nodded. "Yeah. That's pretty much it. I don't have any hobbies," I added apologetically. It had always been a problem of mine --- adults always tended to ask what your hobbies were, as though by knowing that one question they could be your best friend, but I had never been concretely drawn to anything for more than a week at a time. It left quite a few gaps in conversation.

"That's all right," Pearl said with a smile. It seemed genuine. "That'll give you more time for exploring Merlana."

After taking a sip of whatever was in my goblet --- some kind of juice, strong and heavy but too fresh to be wine --- I asked, "Where are we, anyway? I've never heard of this place. Well... obviously."

"We're in the Atlantic Ocean, quite close to Morocco, although Merlana has island provinces as far as the Mediterranean Sea, near Italy and Greece. They're all hidden, of course."

"How?"

"The ocean," she said with a smile I could only define as mysterious, trite as that sounded. "She's on our side."

I raised an eyebrow, but she just smiled. "You'll learn all about it soon."

"Probably from a sea shephard," Lisette added. "I'm guessing that you'll take lessons from one at court."

"What's a sea shephard?"

"I don't know what they do, exactly, to be honest," she said. "They're just kind of... there. The listen to the sea and bring information. Ryne?"

"They communicate with the ocean," he said. "Speak her language. It's a complex process, and though I've learned some, it takes a certain amount of natural aptitude, which I'm afraid I lack. Pearl, on the other hand, is quite fluent."

"Well, mermaids are," she said wryly. He conceded this with a nod.

"True enough. Anyway, you'll be able to study that with one of our shephards here, along with all your other lessons."

I thought of asking what, exactly, I would be expected to study, but held my tongue. I didn't have energy to ask more questions --- and no doubt I would find it all out in time.

The rest of the meal was spent in the same kind of pleasant small talk, carried through the awkward gaps by Lisette. I managed as best I could, although I feared I made a very poor dinner companion, as I didn't know them well enough to speak freely. In addition, I didn't really know myself. Everything was slightly hazy and passed without my being as aware of it as I normally was, although time itself seemed very fickle and prone to slow down and speed up in an irritating way. It was rather like the sensation of being too tired, which I felt I was. Perhaps I was just in shock. Either way, I made it through dinner, trying to form opinions on my "parents," but by the time I got back up to my bedroom the entire meal had faded as though it had been only a dream. They had bid me goodnight very nicely, again without too much unwarranted physical contact, for which I was grateful. Lisette --- I still had to bite the name "Mom" from the tip of my tongue every time I addressed her in words or in my thoughts --- accompanied me up, and then, sensing quite rightly that I would rather be alone, left. I fell straight into bed and slept, heavily and with no dreams.

_**A/N: Scoutcraft Piratess: **I'm glad you noticed the name thing! It popped out of my fingers and I liked it quite a lot, so it stayed. And no... I didn't mean to say that bit about the fiancee and mermaid --- I about died laughing when I realized what it said. Talk about putting a new twist on the Little Mermaid story, lol. Thanks for pointing it out --- it's fixed now!_


	7. The First Day

**CHAPTER SIX**

I was startled awake by the sound of something scraping metal. After sitting bolt upright, I realized that it had been a maid at the fireplace. Tiny flames had by now begun to lick the small logs she'd placed there. She glanced up at me, a wryly amused expression on her face.

"Good morning, Your Highness," she said, nodding.

"Good morning." I paused, then said, "What are you doing?"

She laughed. "Setting your fire."

"But it's summer."

"You'll realize how chilly it is when you climb out of those covers of yours," she said. "Meanwhile, since you're awake: what do you want for breakfast?"

"Um... I don't know. Whatever."

"Well, Mabelle'll be happy to hear that." She pulled a seashell from her pocket, and, while I watched in fascination, shook it and listened for a moment. A tiny voice said something from within, and she put the shell to her ear. "Hi." A pause. "Hello? Mabelle! Quit yelling at whoever that is. Is that... it's Clorinda, right? Her suitor just informed her that he's moving to Oz and she's not coping very well. Right. Exactly. Well, that's what I told her, but... Yes, I'm up here. She said anything is fine." There was a pause. "Well, yes, I know that." The maid rolled her eyes at me and made a gruesome face. It was so unlike how I had expected royal servants to behave --- and such a nice surprise --- that I almost laughed. "Look. Yes, I'll talk when I get down there. I've got chores. Right. Bye." She slipped the shell back in her pocket.

"Breakfast'll be up in a few minutes," she said. "One of the scullery maids is having a fit. I told her that the provincial pearl divers are bad news, but would she listen? No. Well, she's learned her lesson well enough, poor thing. Her first love and all." She stood and brushed her skirt off. "I must be off. A lady-in-waiting will be here to help you dress in a few minutes."

"That's really not necessary."

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Have you seen your clothes yet?"

"No."

"All right, then." She dipped a quick curtsy. "Good luck with everything today. I'll bet you're feeling a bit under the weather with all of this, but we're cheering for you." She winked. "See you later."

"See you."

She flashed me a grin and left. I realized too late that I had forgotten to ask her name. Still, it was nice to have someone cheery around, although I was puzzled and a bit bothered by what she had said about my clothes. Inspired to movement, I slid off the bed and opened the closet door.

It was a room unto itself --- a big room. The entire thing was stuffed with... dresses. All dresses. Not a pair of jeans was to be had, just gown after gown, most of which I'd feel very stupid wearing outside of a formal dance. The lady-in-waiting the maid had mentioned came in while I was still perusing the fabrics and ornamentations, feeling put out.

"Do you know what you want?" she asked, putting a hand on her hip and cocking her head to one side. Her name, she informed me, was Aretta. She had a strong face, young and freckled with dark eyes, and was dressed in something that looked similar to the rainbow in my closet.

I shook my head. "No. Do you have any, you know... pants?"

"Pants?" she said, looking puzzled. "Like... like how? Like a dog pants?"

"No. Like trousers."

"Boy clothes."

"Sure."

She shook her head. "No. Not unless we go find some boy's closet to raid, and I guarantee you that I will not be found doing such a thing, and neither will you."

"I don't like skirts. You can't do anything in them."

"You'll be able to do everything you need to," she said briskly. "If after today you really hate them so much, we can probably have some items made for you. There isn't time now." She entered the massive closet, looked around, and pulled out a few dresses.

"These should be suitable. Have you been given today's schedule?"

"Schedule?"

I didn't want a stupid _schedule_.

"Yes, schedule." She smiled. "And you might as well get that look off your face, Highness, because you'll have one tomorrow, too, and the day after, and the day after. Don't worry, it's got big empty gaps in it. Your parents understand that you may be suffering from some culture shock."

"No," I said sarcastically. "Not at all."

"Here," she said, pulling a folded-up paper from her sash. "Look. Breakfast in your rooms, tour of the palace --- an abridged tour, naturally, the whole thing is enormous and you'll do better to explore it on your own --- then you'll be having lunch with your mother and her ladies-in-waiting. After that you'll meet your tutors. You don't have many subjects to study yet, because they'll need to test your aptitudes and locate any gifts you have that may have emerged."

"Gifts," I repeated. Gifts, as though I were in some idiotic fantasy novel and was about to discover that dragons and I had a special thing going.

"Yes," she said. "They'll explain it all to you. After that you're free to wander around or do whatever you like until dinner, at which point you'll have dinner with your parents. After dinner Lady Lisette has requested a private audience, which I assume you'll grant, and then bed."

I frowned. She ignored this.

"So, suffice to say we'll want something functional but elegant, as it's probably wise to make a good first impression. Something light and fresh." She pulled a few more gowns down, and spread them out. "Choose one."

"There's nothing functional here," I said finally. She clucked her tongue.

"Oh, don't be silly. The pink one --- look how loose that skirt is, and the sleeves won't get into anything. The blue one, too. None of these are going to cause you problems. Goodness, none of them even require a corset!" She surveyed me, then sighed deeply, plucked something lilac and silky from the spread, and motioned me out of the closet.

"Here," she said. "Put this on." When I hesitated, she rolled her eyes. "For pity's sake, if you must be so modest take it behind the screen. But hurry up, because I have to lace up the back and do your hair and we've only got forty minutes until the tour is supposed to start." She motioned at a maid who had entered while we were in the closet, pushing a silver cart. "Set up her breakfast by the vanity. She'll eat while I'm doing her hair."

She was none too gentle. Once I was dressed and laced, she sat me down and started yanking a brush across my scalp. When I yelped, she merely informed me that I ought to wear my hair in a braid at nights to keep it from getting so tangled. Somehow I managed to choke down the food Mabelle had sent up, and at long, long last, she patted my shoulder, pronounced me done, and fastened a necklace around my throat. The pendant was --- shockingly enough --- a seashell. This whole theme was getting to be a bit ridiculous.

"There," she said, surveying me in the mirror. "You look quite acceptable. Now, come along."

I stood and followed her out the door. A few maids in the hallway stopped what they were doing and curtsied. I didn't know what to do in response, so I smiled and copied Aretta's deep nod. We met with another lady-in-waiting at the end of the corridor, this one little older than myself, with red hair and big brown eyes. She smiled warmly at me.

"Your Highness, this is Grethel. Grethel, Princess Marina. The queen expects her at noon."

"I'll see that she gets there," Grethel said. She turned to me. "Come along."

There was something cheerful about her face, and she had a sweet, maternal air that would have been annoying in most people but which she managed to carry off with elegance. I was led through the palace, while she talked amiably, and I tried to absorb where we were going and what I saw. It was difficult --- there were far too many rooms.

"How are you adjusting?" she asked, very kindly.

"Okay, I guess," I said, turning to watch as a man with frizzy hair passed us, pushing an ancient phonograph on a cart. "It's all kind of hazy."

She laughed. "I understand quite well. I was the same way when I got here."

I perked up. "You're from outside, too?" I had begun to categorize things as "inside" and "outside," for it seemed the easiest way to both keep track and draw distinction between my old life and this one. She didn't seem to see anything unusual in it.

"No. Well, I suppose I am in a way --- my mother was Merlan --- but I grew up in Germany. My brother, Hansel, and I moved here shortly after our father died."

I paused. "Hansel?"

"Yes. I think you'll meet him soon; he's training as a knight here."

"Like... Hansel and Grethel?" Of all the absurd...

She laughed. "Yes. I understand it's gotten to be a fairy tale in some parts of the world. We weren't the originals, if that's any consolation --- they were born long before us --- but there's been a tradition in my family of naming the first son and daughter after them. Most of us venture into the woods and trouble. It's a right of passage, I suppose." She opened the door. "This is the library."

I took in the shelves of books. It was huge, with shelves upon shelves of mostly leather-bound volumes, light streaming through tall windows. I wanted to curl up in a corner and read for hours.

"Wow," I said, for lack of anything more intellectual to say.

"Yes, it's rather nice. You'll find books on everything in there," she added as she closed the door. "I'd let you wander about, but we've got a fair amount of ground to cover."

Typical.

She led me through several music rooms --- music seemed to be a big thing here, if the decor was indicative of everything --- several sitting rooms that apparently held significance, the throne room --- very grand, full of marble and the typical sea colors, with three marble thrones on a raised dias --- an enormous formal dining hall, and the reception room for the servants quarters, where apparently the king or queen met with the head housekeeper and palace steward each day regarding activities and any major issues with the staff that needed dealing with. The staff, Grethel explained, were a fairly well-pleased bunch, for working at the palace was considered an elite job and came with above-average pay and perks.

"This place is a little too idyllic," I said. She raised her eyebrows in an expression of sincere confusion.

"_Too_ idyllic? I didn't know there could be such a thing."

"There must be something wrong with it," I said. "Nowhere is really this... contented."

"It's not," she said, shrugging. "Wonderful as the systems and land are --- and it is all impressively organized --- Merlana is populated with humans. And mermaids and fairies, of course. That in itself is enough to turn anywhere less than perfect, isn't it? I mean, we all have our bad days. Lady Ritta, for example, is pregnant, and she's the most miserable creature I think I've ever met." She laughed lightly. "Poor girl. It's her first, you see, and she's just discovering that motherhood is not all bedtime stories and baby kisses."

"How many 'ladies' are there?" I asked. We turned a corner into a hallway lined with enormous panes of glass that looked out to the ocean. The view was positively breathtaking, but I turned back to Grethel. "Moreover, what's a 'lady'?"

"Well," she said, nodding at a young girl in a flowered dress as she passed us. "Usually it means lady-in-waiting. Your mother has I don't know how many of them, and you'll have some soon, I imagine, although for now I suppose you'll stick to her circle."

It took a moment to register that she wasn't talking about Lisette.

"Most of the ladies-in-waiting are actually _ladies,_" she continued. "Titled women, duchesses and knight's wives and such. We give the title of 'Lady' to female knights as well, although there aren't many of them. Your guardian, for example, Lady Lisette, is both a knight's wife and the mistress of several small provinces, mostly within a few miles of here, I believe. I'm not really titled at all, but since the queen granted me a place as one of her ladies, I was given the name."

Personally, I had never been one for the whole titles thing, but Grethel seemed satisfied with the situation. She continued leading me around the palace, pointing out items of interest. At last, when I thought my feet were about to give out in their jeweled slippers, she led me to the queen's chambers and knocked.


	8. First Day, Continued

**CHAPTER SIX**

We walked into a room that, at first glance, looked like a calendar painting meant to evoke how perfect the Victorian era was in summer. The windows were enormous, letting sunlight stream in anywhere it could, and the women reclining on white wicker furniture fit the scene ridiculously well. Their gowns were in complimentary pastels, the ringlets trailing down pale swanlike necks were of perfect shape and size, and the luncheon spread out on the little tables was comprised of tea sandwiches, lemonade, and sliced fruits. I raised my eyebrows. Grethel laughed.

"Are we late?" she asked cheerfully. Pearl, sitting on a couch by Lisette, her legs curled elegantly beside her, shook her head.

"Not at all."

Grethel took my hand and led me over to Pearl, and then made a pointed gesture with her eyes. I curtsied, as I'd seen everyone else do, and Pearl smiled. I couldn't tell if it was a gracious-welcome sort of smile or amusement at my attempt, but she said merely, "Have a seat."

I was the subject of many sideways glances as I tried to determine what would be considered the appropriate amount of food on my plate. Though fairly starving, I figured princesses supposed to be dainty eaters, and my plate ended up mirroring Grethel's. I think she noticed, but was kind enough to not say anything.

Pearl was telling a story about something she and her sisters had done way back when. I was too busy taking in the room and the people around me to pay much attention, but she seemed to hold everyone else in sway. Her hands waved around, long-fingered and pale, her wedding ring --- the only bit of jewelry she wore --- catching the light and sparkling. It was oddly reassuring to see that people wore wedding rings here.

"Have you visited Atlantis yet?" one of the women asked me. I shook my head.

"What's that?"

"Home of the mermaids in this part of the sea," Pearl said. "Where I grew up."

Right. My birth mom, the mermaid. How weird.

"Oh," I said. The next words that came to mind were _That's nice,_ but I couldn't think of a way to say them without sounding sarcastic. "No, I haven't."

"You'll like it," Pearl said with another smile. Her teeth were as white as her name. She was the kind of person you could love to hate, if she weren't so... well, honest. Our acquaintance had thus far been short, but I couldn't imagine her capable of avarice or malice. Her emotions showed through her eyes far too easily.

A tugging at my skirt caught my attention. A little girl was standing in front of me, with white-blonde hair, big blue eyes, and a smile that was too wide and full of tiny teeth. I hadn't noticed her before, for she was extremely short and had been up till now completely silent and mostly out of sight. She tilted her head to survey me, then held out her arms in a gesture I recognized as "Up!"

"I'm sorry," said one of the women, flushing and moving to get up from her chair. "I didn't realize she'd left, she'd been sitting so quietly."

I shook my head. "No, it's okay." She eyed me hesitantly, and sat back down. I lifted the girl onto my lap. Her warm weight was comforting beyond words. Lisette gave me a knowing sort of look, and quickly got the conversation going again, on a subject I wouldn't be expected to participate in.

"How old are you?" the girl said, in a soft voice that must have been learned from hours of sitting with these women.

"Seventeen," I said. "Is that pretty old?"

She nodded seriously. "I'm four."

"That's very grown-up."

"I know," she said. "Are you a princess?"

"Yeah," I said. She didn't look impressed, just fingered my hair and said that it was pretty. We talked for the rest of the lunch. Her name was Lyra, she told me, and she lived at the castle with her mum and papa, who was a knight. Everyone else ignored us, although I couldn't tell if that was because Lisette was keeping them busy or because they had nothing to say to me. I couldn't say I much cared, although if it was Lisette's doing, I intended to thank her later.

After an hour or so, Lyra slid off my lap. "I have to go," she said. I looked over to where she was looking and saw her mother beginning to stand. I nodded.

"It was very nice to meet you," I said. She curtsied. I almost laughed.

"The pleasure is all mine," she said. The words were ridiculous coming out of that tiny person, but I maintained a solemn expression and thanked her for her company. She grinned at me --- her smile sent her eyes crinkling up and her mouth to the far edges of her face --- and scampered off to her mother, the lace on her dress bouncing.

"She's cute," said Grethel. I nodded. She added, "I think Lady Lisette's taking you to meet your tutors now." Why did everyone know my schedule but me? "But I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good," I said. It came out sounding emphatic. She laughed, patted my shoulder, and departed with several of the other gauze-covered ladies.

"She's right," said Lisette. She had come up to stand behind my sofa. "Come on."

I stood reluctantly --- seriously, you would think the whole princess deal would come with no school, at least --- and she straightened my hair. Pearl stood.

"I suppose I won't see you again until dinner," she said. "I'm sorry I can't take you to meet your tutors myself, but I've got a delegate from Olympus that I have to meet with. Zeus wants to organize some sort of trade alliance. It's tedious business, but it must be dealt with." She smiled and swept away, leaving me blinking behind her. Zeus. Right. Groovy.

Lisette took my arm and guided me out the door. "You did well," she said after we were out of anyone's earshot. "If I were more cynical and didn't know you so well I'd have thought you did the entire thing with Ariana's daughter just for show."

I laughed dryly. "Right. Political motivations, that's what it was."

"Either way, you've made a good impression," she said. "Here." We stopped in front of a dark door. It swung open before Lisette touched it, into a gorgeous room filled with plants and butterflies and thick trees. The ceiling was made of domed glass, with enormous open windows. As I watched, a colorful bird flew through one.

"This is incredible," I said, turning around to take in the full scope.

"This is one of your classrooms."

"Natural Sciences, Biology, and Herbology," said a disembodied voice I recognized. I smiled as Nereida came out from behind a tree with waxy green leaves, a bird perched on her finger. "Pardon me, Your Highness, I won't be a minute." She disappeared again, and far before I had got my fill of looking at the room, came back, rolling her hands in a stained cloth. "You'll have Art here sometimes as well, but I don't teach that." I wondered briefly what she'd be like as a teacher, but the thought was cut short as she ushered us through a canopy of leaves.

We walked through the room, along stone walkways over which hung vividly green trees. A snake crossed our path, and she hissed something at it. She showed me to my desk --- a polished stone table, carved with vines --- and then ushered us out, saying that Nessie needed to be fed before she started trying to eat the birds.

"Who's Nessie?" I asked as we were almost pushed out the door.

"You'll find out tomorrow," she said shortly.

The next teacher was of English, which would entail essays, fiction, playwriting, formal letters, declarations, and any number of other literary forms. I was rather frightened of the writing mistress --- she was an angular woman with a tight bun and sharp black eyes, dressed in a dark green Victorian gown that looked vaguely like something the goths at my old school might have worn if they'd been able to afford it. She had no mere pretensions of mystery, however --- the raven perched in the corner of her dusty classroom was altogether real, and when she spoke to it, there was little doubt that it understood her.

Math was taught by a round old man in suspenders, with round glasses perched on his red nose; Science by a tall, thin man in an old-fashioned vest and suit; Art by a willowy woman with large eyes and flyaway hair; Music by a quiet-looking woman who had no distinguishing features whatsoever; and History by a young man with a nervous air. There would be other subjects, Lisette informed me, languages and magic and etiquette, but these lessons would be less formal with no regular teachers until I found ones that I had rapport with. This I thought considerate, and said so; she said it had been Ryne's idea, as he had been forced to take magic from an old man he despised, and consequently learned very slowly and with little enthusiasm. Personally, I thought that any lessons in magic would be bound to be interesting, but then, I was hardly an expert on the subject.

Lisette left me at my room when we were done. I asked her to stay, but she had already arranged an engagement on the other side of the island with an old friend, and reminded me that she would see me that evening. As a consolation prize of sorts, she told me in lowered tones about a certain sliding panel in the hallway that led to a secret hallway down to the kitchens, hinting that Mabelle was a good person to go to in times of boredom. I didn't go down. I needed air, not the companionship of yet another acquaintance of two minutes. The ocean beckoned to me from the windows, gentle blue and far removed from the uncertain curtsies of the palace.

The way outside was not difficult, but getting away without being noticed was. I didn't know if I was allowed out to the beach alone or not, but I suspected that it would be frowned on, since I did have an archvillain after my royal hide and all. But Pearl had said the sea was on our side, I reasoned. Rochelle wouldn't be led to me so easily. It'd be a good excuse if I was caught, anyway. Maybe.

The courtyard was busy as it had been yesterday, full of glittering people in glittering gowns carrying on glittering conversations. I slipped out the front door --- I knew of no other exit --- and tried to blend in. It was difficult, for I felt like a gawky child, but somehow or other I managed to get to the side of the palace without notice. It seemed too bold to go out the front gate, as it was closed, but I thought that there must be a side door somewhere. I was right. The first one I came across had a small lock on it, but the lock seemed to serve no purpose, as it unhinged at my touch. After glancing around to make sure no eyes were on me, I slipped out and found myself on a small winding path into the trees.

After some time, the ocean spread out before me. I slipped down the grassy hillside beyond the forest until I came to the beach. It was a vast expanse of white sand, deserted and probably the most beautiful thing I had seen all day. Here, I was almost totally blocked from the palace, which was synonymous in my book with being almost totally free. I kicked off my slippers and ran down to the water, sat down at the edge of the surf, and let it caress my feet. The sun was hot, too hot, and nothing short of wonderful.

After some time --- a commodity I was very consciously not keeping track of --- a hand dropped onto my shoulder. I sighed and turned, expecting to see Lisette, come to give me a lecture. Instead I saw a stranger, far too close for comfort. I hesitated a brief moment and then screamed.

**A/N: First off, I'm very sorry this was so late --- I've had the flu, ACT crash studying, rehearsals for a variety show (tonight, and I'm Elphaba from Wicked, woo-hoo...), and a mild case of writer's block. The next chapter should be up much sooner. :)**

**teenchic2004 - Thanks! You're right --- she's not liking this at _all_.**

**Scoutcraft Piratess - Thanks --- I'm glad it managed to be interesting and still convey the boring stuff. It's a delicate balance!**

**Allyp - Hi! Glad you're liking it. No, I don't have stuff pre-written --- I'm making this up as I go along. Which is kind of scary, when you think about it... "'Dragons...Virgins...the physics alone just boggles the mind.'" dies laughing What's that from?**


	9. The Sea Shephard

-1**CHAPTER SEVEN**

All right, so it was a little girly. But he had seaweed on his head. Drippy wet green seaweed with seashells stuck in clusters around his ears. My mind had been off in the far reaches of somewhere, and I still knew little of Merlana. It _could_ have been a monster.

But no: it was a man, or rather a young man, a few years older than I. His eyes were bluish-gray, with hair --- what I could see of it through the hat of slime --- probably once brown but bleached a nondescript color by the sun, and features well-tanned and expressive. He held up a hand quickly.

"Forgive me, I didn't intend to frighten you," he said. His accent was refined and musical, like everyone else's here. I examined the headgear a moment before answering.

"It's okay," I said at last. I had to admit to myself a slight embarrassment, but resolved not to show it. There was an awkward pause, and then he started slightly and pulled the stuff off.

"I'm sorry," he said, an amused smile crossing his features. "I forgot I had this on." Gently, he tossed it to the water's edge, where it lapped against the shore. His hair was splotchily wet. "I can see how that might be alarming. You must be the princess," he added. To my disappointment, he bowed. I repressed a sigh.

"You don't have to do that," I said. "Yes, I'm Marina; no, I'm probably not supposed to be out here; yes, you can go turn me in."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he said. "Anyway, you're perfectly safe here."

"What a relief," I said dryly.

"I'm Eran."

"Nice to meet you. If you don't mind my asking, what was the slime for?"

He didn't say anything, but walked down to the shore. He beckoned me to follow. When I was there, he crouched down and put his hand into the water, resting lightly on the surface. "I'm a sea shephard," he said, as though that explained everything.

"Yeah, what is that, any---"

He shushed me, shaking his head, his eyes to the side as though he were listening for something. After a moment of silence, he said, "You're not happy about being here, are you?"

"No."

"Mm," he said noncommitally. "And the seaweed was mostly there to hold the shells, which were talking to me."

Okay. The dude was clearly nuts. Just my luck. First, I had to be a princess of a magic-infested ocean-obsessed island. Then I had to be an idiot and think that I might be able to get away from the castle for two minutes. Then I just _had _to go run into some schizo lunatic on the beach. Not just be any lunatic, of course. That wouldn't be Merlan enough. No, he had to be a lunatic who talked to seashells.

"Talking to you," I repeated after a long pause.

"Mm-hm," he said. "Nothing particularly interesting, but one of them just came in from the coast of Sweden and was telling about its journey." He looked completely serious. I nodded.

"That's really cool," I said. "Really. But I've got to be getting back. I'm sure it's time for dinner, or... something." I turned to go, but he laughed and caught my hand. Cliche as it sounds, the touch send a shiver up my spine. I wasn't sure whether to be interested or freaked out.

"I forget, you're not used to all of this," he said. "Being newly arrived and all."

I didn't answer, and, after several moments of facing my skeptical expression, he let go of my hand. "Sit down," he said, "and I'll explain." I hesistated; he smiled. Finally I shrugged. What else did I have to do? Go practice my curtsies? I sat, making a point of not being too feminine about it. It was a little rebellion, but I had to make it.

"So?" I said after a minute.

"So, I'm a sea shephard. Do you know what that is?"

"Someone to talks to the ocean. I have yet to determine whether they were speaking literally or metaphorically."

"Quite literally," he said. "Although the language is primarily intuitive. I challenge anyone apply grammar to it."

"Thanks, I'll pass."

He nodded. "Wise. So I can talk to her, and along with all that comes specific training in interpretation and control and that sort of thing, which is what distinguishes the shephards from everyone else. Once you can understand the ocean, you can understand the snails --- thus my hat --- and clams and fish and whales and everything else that lives within her. You may have noticed that no one here eats meat or fish. That's because many of us can speak to them. It'd be cannibalistic."

I leaned back onto my palms and looked out over the waves. He surveyed me a moment.

"What's wrong?"

"Why don't you ask that crab?" I asked sharply. He didn't seem put off by my tone, just glanced around until he saw the creature. It was tiny, scuttling along the sand, and he leaned over and stared intently at it. After a moment he laughed, looked over at me, and then back to the crab.

"What did it say?" I asked, eyebrow raised.

He shook his head. "I'm not sure I ought to say."

"Try me."

He paused, then said, "He thinks it's because you're new to Merlana and aren't accustomed to wearing a corset. Though he --- and I, for that matter --- have little experience with them, they're rumored to be uncomfortable."

"I couldn't say," I said. "And this dress doesn't involve one, since you seem so fascinated by the subject." I started to stand. Moron.

"No, please stay," he said quickly, reaching for my hand again. I pulled it away. "I told you I wasn't sure I should repeat it."

I examined him briefly. He didn't seem to be trying to be insolent... just honest, in the same way Pearl was, and a bit clueless, in the way boys were.

"I don't think my question has been answered," he continued, when I didn't seem to be running away. "What's the matter? You're not happy."

"Very perceptive of you," I said. I didn't deign to explain it to him, partly because I didn't have the words at my disposal.

"So?"

"I don't want to be here."

This seemed to puzzle him, for he frowned slightly and said, "Why not?"

"I'm supposed to be a princess," I said slowly. "Do you have any idea what that entails? Because I don't. I don't want to be a princess. I was about to go to college. I was going to become... I don't know what I was going to become, but it wasn't this."

He didn't say anything. He thought about what I had said, then shrugged and stood up.

"Come here," he said.

"Where?"

"C'mere," he repeated. I stood and followed him down the beach a ways until we came to a large, flat rock, a few feet into the water. He waded in until he reached it, then climbed on top and sat down, cross-legged. After a moment's hesitation, I lifted my skirts and followed. Having made it to the rock with minimal wetness, I spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to arrange my clothing so that it wouldn't get soaked when I sat down and settled next to him. He held his hand out over the water and nodded at me to do the same. Feeling a bit stupid, I did.

"What is this supposed to be doing?" I asked after a moment. He glanced sideways at me.

"You're not very patient, are you?"

"No."

"Just wait a moment," he said. "Quiet your mind."

"It's not feeling very quiet."

"Maybe it will if you stop talking," he said. I narrowed my eyes in a juvenile sort of way and then ignored him.

A few moments later, just when I thought I was about to head back to the palace, where people were sane, at least, if idiotic, odd tingles started going up my arm. It wasn't the sensation of a limb falling asleep, but rather as though someone were trailing their nails in quick patterns up and down my arm. I started and turned to Eran, but he smiled and motioned me to be silent. A breeze picked up and started blowing my hair, and the water around the rock quivered in unwonted patterns. A moment later, the water rushed up around us with a roar. I jumped back and ran into Eran, who held very still and silent. In a moment, the roar had ceased and been replaced by a gentle gurgling. I stared.

A wall of water had risen around us, glassy smooth and translucent, to form an egglike dome above our heads. Bits of sand trickled up and down the walls, shimmering in the sun, and through the water could be seen rippling sand and sky. I looked at Eran, who was watching me with a pleased expression on his face.

"What ---" I started, but he cut me off with a gesture.

"Listen."

I did. At first all was quiet, and then I heard a soft, distant voice. It was hollow and deep and exquisite, very female and very beautiful. I couldn't tell if it was singing or speaking.

"What is it?" I asked in the softest voice I could. He smiled.

"Marea," he said. "The sea."

--------------------------------------------------------------

"What happened to you?" Lisette asked. She had come up to dress me for dinner, although I tried not to think of it like that; the phrase alone made me feel like a Barbie. "You're covered in sand."

"Am I?"

I knew the innocent voice wouldn't work with her. It never had. She lifted my skirt and looked at the hem. "This is wet."

"Oh, my. Wonder how that happened."

"Where'd you go?"

There was no use denying anything. I hoped she was in a forgiving mood... or that my newfound social status would involve perks for this kind of situation. Not-being-able-to-get-in-trouble-with-a-mere-lady-of-the-realm kind of perks.

"The beach," I said. "I needed to get out."

"Which one?"

"Down on the... the right side of the castle. If you're facing the front."

"Oh. Ancora Cove. Good place to be alone."

Much relieved that I didn't seem to be in deep water --- no pun intended --- I said, "Well, I wasn't totally alone. There was a sea shephard down here. Eran, he said."

"I don't know him," she said, pulling my hair from its braid. "Is he one of the younger ones?"

"I don't have a basis for comparison, but he's about my age," I said. "I think."

"Well, we can ask Pearl and Ryne about him later."

"Why do they call them shephards? I thought those were for sheep. Ow," I added pointedly. She held up a strand of my hair. A glance in the mirror proved it to be one big rat's nest.

"If you insist on running off without warning anyone, you're likely to get too much salt in your hair. The wind down there wreaks havoc, anyway. And they're not shepherds, they're shephards. Spelled differently; shephard is a Merlan word that means… what's the closest English equivalent? Well, there isn't one. That's why we call them shephards instead of mage or translator or guide or… well, I suppose they're the Merlan version of the old Egyptian priests. We rely on them very heavily." She pulled the brush through my hair. "There. Got it. What are you wearing for dinner?"

"I'm sure I care."

"Fine, then, I'll pick something."

She came back a moment later with a gorgeous gown of deep merlot. I could have hugged her --- there wasn't a thing on it that had to do with the ocean. In short order we were headed downstairs.

"Oh, Marina, one thing," she said, pausing outside the door. "Tell someone where you're going next time. I'll tell them that you asked me this once, but you'd do well to remember that neither being royalty nor being almost eighteen will spare you from house arrest."

"Right," I said, then added, "Thanks."


	10. Lessons and Mabelle

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

Eran, it seemed, was a promising young shephard who was apprenticed to one of the oldest and wisest in this part of the sea. He was a complete Merlan, born and raised, and it seemed that everyone was fond of him.

"He's a talented young man," Ryne said. Pearl added something about his being known by almost everyone on the island and considered a friend by many.

"You know," said Ryne thoughtfully, twirling pasta on his fork, "I wonder…"

After he left the sentence dangling for a time, Pearl nudged him and raised her eyebrows.

"Well," he said. "I wonder if he might be your language tutor. For the sea, I mean, and Merlan, if he's willing."

"I wouldn't mind," I said. All right, he was a bit out there, but he was friendly, and I couldn't quite get the voice he had called up out of my head. To my own surprise and slight annoyance, I was becoming increasingly interested in the whole affair.

"I'll ask him tomorrow," Ryne said.

Tomorrow came too quickly, for I was dreading my other lessons. The first day of school was always a bit unnerving, but the first day of private tutelage was altogether too much to handle with any degree of composure. I was outfitted in the morning in an entirely unsuitable --- to my mind --- gown, full and puffy and long-sleeved, and ushered to Nereida's greenhouse, where I was left alone at the door.

Nereida was inside, carrying a small wooden bucket that had been carved from a single piece of wood. She raised a hand in greeting.

"Come in," she said. "You can help me feed the koi."

"The what?"

"Koi. It's a type of fish. Native to Japan, but we've bred them here for hundreds of years. Mostly for magical properties."

Once at the large pond, surrounded by a short wall of moss-covered stone, she started scattering handfuls of something into the water. "Much of their bodies are covered with taste buds," she said. "Here." She held out the bucket, and I mimicked her. "We have to be careful not to feed them too much," she continued, in an educational tone. "They produce ammonia as a part of their waste products, and if too much ends up in their water, they get sick and die. With the right amount, the ammonia can be converted to nitrites, which are converted to nitrates, which is in essence fertilizer. That causes algal blooms --- see how the water is starting to turn green over there? Plants eat up most of it, but I change the water fairly frequently to keep them healthy. Pearl is especially attached to them. Not surprising, considering her heritage."

The last bit of the pellets gone, she dusted off her hands. "Normally I'll have them eat out of my palm, but we have too much to do today to spend time on it. This way."

I followed silently as she walked along some path --- I couldn't have said which, for they all looked the same to me --- and came out at the table that had been set aside for my use. She gestured at me to have a seat, and then produced from somewhere a tray filled with small plants.

"First off," she said, taking a seat opposite me, "do you know what herbology is?"

I recognized the term from Harry Potter. The startling idea crossed my mind that if this was all real, those books may have been based in fact as well. The thought was distinctly eerie.

"Plants?" I ventured after a moment. "Magical plants?"

"Close. Herbal medicine, and with it a great deal of horticulture. Can you name any of these plants?"

"No," I said. "Hold on… Is that one mint?"

"Yes," she said. She broke a leaf off and crushed it between her fingers. A faint scent filled the air. "Spearmint - _mentha spicata._ And this one ---"

A loud screech cut her off. I jumped perceptibly; she just looked annoyed.

"That's Nessie," she said. "I'd ignore her, but that won't help things. She wants to meet you."

"Who's Nessie?" I asked, recalling the name from the day previous.

"Scaled monkey." She stood, while I tried to decide whether that meant "monkey with scales" or whether it referred to some kind of fish or bird. A moment later, all curiosity was satisfied, as an impish-looking creature returned from somewhere clinging around Nereida's neck.

"Meet Nessie," she said, with more than a hint of dryness. The creature was indeed a scaly monkey, small and limber, both mammal and reptile. It reflected the light with a dark green sheen, and had little horns poking out on either side of its head, which I assumed covered ears. The face was of bluish-black skin, the tail was curled around Nereida's arm and looked for all the world like a snake. I had never seen such an ugly creature. It tilted its head at me and made a chirping sound, and its black eyes examined me with unabashed curiosity. It was so ugly it was _cute_.

"She's more or less a capuchin," Nereida said, pulling Nessie off her back and around to the front. "Very smart, and probably a bigger pain than she's worth." These words badly concealed a strong affection; she couldn't hide her slight smile. "I'm trying to teach her to communicate, through sign language and verbal cues."

We spent some time getting acquainted. Nessie was the oddest baby I had ever met, but there was really no better way to describe her. Her limited attempts at communication, boundless energy, curious gaze, and insistence on getting her own way were textbook one-year-old, and I found I was rather fond of her.

My other lessons were less interesting, though not wholly boring. I found my tutors to be, without exception, eccentric. The writing teacher, the one with the raven, swooped down on me and started talking in a clipped, hoarse about the importance of _the word. _"The word" seemed to be a very, very big deal, although I found it very hard to see the words she put before me, as she had a penchant for only lighting with candles. Black ones.

The math teacher I liked, which was a relief because I deeply loathed his subject. He was jolly, talked in a slow voice that started to bounce around when he got excited about something, and liked to make puns. The willowy art teacher talked in a breathy voice, and referred to line and passion as though they were all you needed to know to create truly great art; however, I found her quite knowledgeable on the subject and practical when we got right down to the first sketches she wanted me to do to gauge my ability. I ended up with a whole pile of terms to memorize and the assignment of forty line drawings of different styles before I came back the next day. The music teacher was perfectly sensible and didn't seem inclined to do much until I had memorized the notes on the piano --- which wasn't hard, for there are only seven of them and they go in order --- and the nervous History teacher was much less nervous when it was only the two of us. He had genuine interest in his subject, and from the hints he --- very cleverly --- dropped, I began to think that this might actually be a very interesting subject to take, even if I wasn't jazzed about the princess idea.

A few days passed. I soon found myself swamped in schoolwork, and between that, the constant etiquette I was trying to figure out, and the random duties I was expected to perform --- showing up, looking pretty, and giving "a few words" to select nobility of the population during my formal introduction to the court; advising the king and queen in cases of local disagreements about property lines or debts owed, during which I primarily kept my mouth shut and tried to disappear; and formally greeting visitors from provinces and other countries I'd never heard of to the Palace Merlana --- I barely had time to breathe, let alone reflect on my situation. I suppose it was good for me not to dwell on things, but I resented the intrusion and scheduling my life now consisted of. Privacy was almost a thing of the past. In the morning, there was always a maid with the fire and breakfast. Before she was gone two minutes a lady-in-waiting arrived to dress and primp me. Most mornings the lady was Grethel, for which I was glad, for though I would have often preferred solitude, I found in her a good-natured and sympathetic friend. Days and evenings were full of people, and I got no time alone until I was in bed, at which point I fell instantly into dreamless sleep.

With all of this, it was some time before I properly met Mabel. I didn't meet her through wholly honest means, I must confess. I was supposed to be in my art class, but my teacher said she had a massive headache and was canceling lessons, if that suited Her Highness. That suited Her Highness extremely well, and though Her Highness had been told to work on vanishing point exercises during the normal class time, Her Highness was hungry and deeply wanted a change of routine.

I found the passage Lisette had showed me. The hallway it led to was narrow and dim, with faded orange wallpaper and candles flickering along the walls. There was evidence of recent life, for I saw a sort of makeshift bulletin board, pinned with flyers announcing a Servants Gala (apparently some sort of dance), various items for sale, and a large note that said, "Lilly, will you come with me? Boris," and an arrow pointing to the Gala paper. There were many doors along the corridor, and several sets of narrow stairs that seemed to mimic the floor plan outside, at least as far as I could remember. The kitchen, Lisette had said, was the very last door on the bottom floor.

I had a moment of hesitation before I pushed the door open. When I did, I was met with a great deal of chatter and footsteps, the smell of bread baking, and the dusty look of a room full of flour. Clearly, it was baking day. Maids stood at long tables, covered in white powder and kneading great chunks of dough. Brick ovens on the far wall showed flames inside, and occasionally someone would open one to take out golden loaves of bread.

I stood for a moment with the door open before anyone noticed me. When they did, there was a quick bustle, and in few moments Mabelle appeared, wearing an enormous apron.

"Well, lass," she said briskly. "Took you long enough to come see me. Thought you weren't going to show. Never mind, what's brought you down here? I've got bread dough to knead for boredom, chocolate cake for depression, a handy spot in the pantry if you're aiming to hide, and plenty of conversation if you're ailing in that respect. What'll it be?"

"Bread dough," I said. "I need to do something other than remember the proper fingering for the G Major scale."

She looked pleased enough with this answer. "Well, then, come along. Marcie, fetch her an apron, will you?"

A girl nodded, disappeared, and returned mere seconds later with the required article. I put it on, and Mabelle tossed a hunk of dough my direction and took up station opposite me at one of the tables. No one paid me much mind, and conversation resumed around us.

"So I was saying," said a girl with red hair and freckles, "that if Rochelle wants to send a delegation up here, that's _her_ business."

**A/N: Allyp ---- Yeah, that might've worked... It would have given the corset issue considerably less weight, though, lol. Much thanks for the error-point-out-isms --- I think they're all fixed now. And no, you are not one to talk. "I Am Jill," nudge nudge hint hint... ;)**

**Proud Titania --- I'm glad you like Eran; I do, too. I think he'll be fun to get to know.**

**Silver Sparklze --- Again (see above) I'm glad you like Eran. And I'm glad you like Marina's rebellions. There'll be more of them, I'm sure, lol.**

**Scoutcraft Piratess --- Ah, you're perceptive! It is very childlike, as, I think, is he. **

**slipshod --- Lol, I hadn't thought of it that way --- I like it.**

**teenchic 2004 --- Thanks. :) I'm glad Marina's coming across as a strong character. The character in the original story beginning I based this on was very flat, and I was afraid that would follow through in this revamping. Luckily, she's more willing to talk to me this time around. (Lol... only another writer would get that sentence...) **


	11. Atlantis

**CHAPTER NINE**

I was very quiet. Talk continued, and although I could feel Mabelle's eyes on me, she didn't seem inclined to tell the girl to stop talking or send me away.

"It's ridiculous," said another girl. "She's been high and mighty for the past eighteen years, and now she wants to be friends?"

"I'm just interested in the motivation behind it," said the first girl. "I don't much care if she sees fit to visit or not --- it's hardly my concern --- I'd just like to know _why._"

"Isn't it obvious?" said someone. A few of them glanced my direction and quickly looked away. The redheaded girl, however, turned to me.

"What do you think?" she asked. I jumped at being addressed.

"This is the first I've heard of it," I said. She raised her eyebrows knowingly.

"Typical, isn't it? Keep the people most concerned in the dark. Well, there's not much to tell. Rochelle's announced that she's sending an envoy here to attend your birthday and coronation celebrations. This is the first interest she's shown in having anything to do with us, since the first attempts on your life, you know; I personally don't know how sincere she is." She clucked her tongue and turned back to her work with a skeptical expression.

"She was far too in love with the king," said a girl, shaking her head. Another laughed.

"You mean his money. She never gave a fig for him, or so my mother says. I wasn't old enough to remember, but she knew as much about it as anyone."

"Well, either way, she's too jealous for her own good. Mind, I don't know what good sending a delegation up is going to do. It's not as though the king will be won away from Her Majesty now."

"She just wants to strengthen her position," said one of them sagely. "It's hardly good to remain on Merlana's bad side. My bet is that she wants to convince you, Highness, that she's got nothing but warm fuzzies in your direction."

I laughed dryly. "I'm sure I'll be convinced." The girl grinned.

It was some days before the news of Rochelle's delegation became common knowledge. Little was said to me, but whenever the subject came up, Lisette's lips became tightly pursed, Pearl's eyes flashed, and Ryne's jaw clenched.

"I wish we could just refuse them admittance and be done with it," Lisette said one evening as she was helping me take out the elaborate hairstyle I'd been put into that morning.

"Why can't we?"

"No one has a good enough reason. The fact that she's an enemy is known enough, but she covers her tracks too well --- it's impossible to pin anything on her. Anyway, there's no telling how she'd retaliate. Ryne hopes that if we allow her in, she'll play by our rules." Her voice made clear what she thought of this, but she said no more.

The next day brought with it a long-expected venture out of the palace gates. Today, I was to be taken down to visit Atlantis. I couldn't deny some nervousness --- in between the deep-water thing, the immortal Jaws-induced shark possibility thing, and the having to be alone with Pearl for half the day thing, it was a little scary. Lisette tried to reassure me, but I wasn't inclined to trust her. She had told me a while ago that I wouldn't have to ever wear one of the dreaded corsets if I didn't want to, and within days one of the stupid ladies' maids had conned me into one. I wasn't sure if I would ever forgive either of them.

The morning was cool and calm. Pearl and I headed out alone, through a side door in the gates, and down to a cove I hadn't seen before. It was truly lovely, sheltered on all sides but one by trees and an ancient rock wall, with the sea lapping quietly at the shore. Pink dawn tinged the otherwise gray horizon.

"Sailor's warning," Pearl said, smiling. It was the first she had spoken beyond telling me to watch my step.

"What?"

"'Red at night, sailor's delight. Red in the morning, sailor's warning,'" she said, as though reciting something. "Old mariner's rhyme. But we won't be sailing." She dipped a bare foot in the water. "Cold," she said after a pause. "It'll only last a moment."

We shed the loose-fitting gowns that had been put over our "bathing costumes," as they were called. These, I had to admit, were gorgeous. They had been worked in some material, like linen crossed with silk, and had elbow-length sleeves of loosely-woven strips and long clingy skirts of the same light, quick-drying material. They were both a dark greenish-blue, unfortunately, but I forgave it.

"All right," Pearl said. She took a deep breath of the air coming up from the water. "We're going to go down. Lisette said you can swim?"

"Not well."

"Well or ill, doesn't matter. Here." She handed me a small flower. I looked at her.

"What am I supposed to do with it?"

"Eat it," she said. "It'll help you breath under the water. The sensation is not pleasant, but I trust you will find it well worth the discomfort."

I did as she said. She was right; it was disgusting. The taste was salty, and first coated and then filled my throat with a wet mucus. I gagged and made a face. Pearl smiled sympathetically as she swallowed a flower of her own, and then she stepped into the water with a look that told me to follow.

It was cold. Really, really cold. I was shivering convulsively by the time we were in up to our necks. She dove under; I did the same with a nagging feeling that this would be a painful way to die. To my surprise, however, the chill was gone within seconds to be replaced not by warmth, but with a temperature that could best be described as nothing. Warm and cold no longer had meaning. I forced my eyes open, and found that they, too, had been coated with the slime, which now seemed to be protecting and enhancing my vision. The throat stuff seemed to be keeping water out of my lungs while letting air in. It was decidedly awesome.

Pearl waved a hand and started to swim off. I followed her, moving much more slowly and much less elegantly. Well, I would. _I_ wasn't a former mermaid.

It was very gloomy at first. The water was dark, and all I could see down below was a murky green, which I assumed was some sort of seaweed covering the floor. After a while, we started heading deeper. A momentary rush of claustrophobia ensued, and then Pearl was pulling me down towards the green. It _was _seaweed, I saw, feathery and thick. She seemed to be heading straight towards the plants, though they looked very likely to strangle someone; I followed her, figuring that if I was going to die, at least this was a unique way of doing it.

She pushed through, holding my hand tightly. I scrunched up my face as we passed through the barrier. Bits of the stuff got into my nose and ears in a particularly disgusting manner. Thankfully, the ordeal was over soon; we broke through into clear water. I shook my head, pulled hair from my face, and opened my eyes.

We had come down onto a hill that looked down on a shimmering city. It was full of light dancing in patterns. After a moment, I saw it had come from a complex system of mirrors suspended in the water, bouncing surprisingly strong light back and forth until it reached the city. Before us was a large palace with beautifully carved stone walls, and all around it were homes and larger buildings that I soon recognized as businesses and schools. There were mermaids everywhere. Most of them were utterly gorgeous, with long hair, wide eyes, and unusually long, slender fingers. Some of them glanced our way as Pearl led me down into the city. They smiled and waved, but otherwise left us alone.

I finally became aware of noise. The way down had been silent except for the hollow, echoing sound of being submerged. Now my ears filled with voices, some high, some low, all with same musical tone as Pearl's. There was something different about the sound, as though it had been softened around the edges, but it was otherwise quite intelligible.

"This way," said Pearl. Her voice too had taken on the strange quality. She led the way, looking for all the world like one of the mermaids. I, on the other hand, thought I resembled a drowning porpoise. It was rather embarrassing, but I figured that being a human was some excuse. After a few minutes, I didn't need an excuse anymore, even if it was just to pacify my ego; the world around me was too beautiful to ignore for the sake of vanity.

The water cast a strange sort of light to everything that illuminated more elegantly and cast more secretive shadows than ordinary sun. Everything was in movement save the buildings: hundreds of flowers and seaweeds, some planted in gardens and some left to grow free, swayed with the currents, and the people were never still. Tails flashed silver and orange and pink and purple all around, catching light and reflecting as though covered with sequins, minus the tacky factor that usually came along with sparkle. There was something different about mermaids, too, something wild and deep that shone past their everyday smiles and gestures and conversations.

We went up into the palace. It had steps, though I couldn't imagine why, that led up to an enormous archway and beyond that, a set of wooden double doors that were propped open. The wood had gone soft and pliant, but their sheer thickness left little doubt that they could keep in or out anything they pleased. A guard stood --- or rather, floated --- on either side. They nodded to Pearl as we passed, and cast me surreptitious glances. I smiled; they pretended they hadn't looked.

Just a little inside the doors, hovering over a marble mosaic floor, was a merman. Though he wore no crown and held no scepter, he radiated authority. Pearl immediately launched herself into his arms, and they embraced.

Her dad.

Yeah. Neptune. That one.

"I heard you coming," he said, with a warm smile. "You swim very noisily."

I hated to think what I must sound like.

"Not another word about the legs," she said with a laugh. "It's far too late to go back now. Daddy," she added, taking my hand and pulling me closer. "This is my daughter."

He gazed at me for a moment with shockingly clear blue eyes. It would have been unnerving had they not been so friendly; as it was, he made me think of Santa Claus, albeit a more muscled, longer-bearded version.

"Welcome to Atlantis."

"Thanks."

"How are you adjusting?"

I was sick of the question, but made a polite reply about how very lovely I thought Merlana was. He nodded.

"Diplomatic enough answer," he said. "You're doing well in _that _regard, anyway."

"Dad," said Pearl warningly. He raised his white eyebrows.

"I wasn't going to say anything. Come," he said to me. "I'll show you around, unless my daughter objects."

"Go on, then," she said. "Don't frighten her."

"Would I?"

We swam off. He was very patient with me, and I found his honesty refreshing. Although I supposed he probably could be tactful, he chose not to, and said exactly what he thought without reserve. His daughter he loved madly but found a little too headstrong, tolerated Ryne for her sake ("Self-important little individual, if you ask me," he said, "though don't let my opinion influence you!"), had never seen the Palace Merlana but had heard much about it and demanded to know whether I thought Atlantis more beautiful (I did and said so), thought I was rather too skinny and clearly wasn't enjoying life as much as I should (for which he blamed Ryne for trying to push too many royal duties on me all at once), and declared a passionate dislike of turnips, of all things. I liked him enormously.

Pearl was busy pulling weeds alongside a merwoman when we got back outside. They were talking and laughing, and I saw for a moment how she had fit into this world. She waved us over.

"We'd better head back soon," she said, straightening up. "I promised Ryne we'd be back a little after noon."

Neptune gave me a significant look. Pearl rolled her eyes.

"Daddy, he's just concerned. It's all this Rochelle business."

"I'll gladly blow her out of the water," he offered. She shook her head firmly.

"I'd rather Atlantis not get involved," she said. "If we can solve this all without any kind of conflict, I'll be satisfied."

"Well, let me know if you need any violence inflicted," he said. I grinned. She assured him that she would, and then the two of us headed back the way we had come. I glanced back one more time at the city before we went through the seaweed wall. It was stunningly beautiful --- the light, brighter now, cascaded down from the mirrors in shimmering beams, rippling and dancing over the textures and colors. As soon as we passed through the barrier, it was gone, replaced only by a murky green.

We swam in silence, finally breaking the surface not far from shore. Pearl swam ahead and waited for me in the shallows. She was busy exfoliating her legs with the sand when I arrived. It was an amusing sight, although, for someone who probably prized legs very highly, I guessed it made sense.

"What did you think?" she asked, rinsing. She stood up, and I did the same.

"It's gorgeous," I said. My mind was still back there, images of orange flowers swaying to the music of the language. "Why did you ever leave it?"

She glanced out to sea, then up at the castle.

"Love," she said. Her tone was rueful, but without any real regret. "I heard once that all the stories said I was obsessed with land." She laughed. "It's so far from the truth. I loved Atlantis; I still do. But when you fall in love, you find yourself doing things before you think. You find yourself in situations you'd never imagined, and then you make the choice you would have thought least likely." She looked up at the palace, towers just visible above the trees. "It's nonsensical."

"Your dad seems enamored of Ryne."

"Oh, indeed," she said dryly. "I always knew he'd resent whoever took me away, but to take the king of the sea's daughter away from the ocean entirely? I thought he'd never speak to either of us again." She shrugged. "Still won't give Ryne much more than the time of day, but I'm working on it."

She handed me my gown, which had remained on the beach. The slimy sensations from the flower were beginning to fade, drying up, perhaps. I shook the sand from my dress and put it on, and then turned for a last look at the ocean, sparkling now in afternoon sun. Off on the horizon there was a black speck. I shielded my eyes.

"What's that?"

"Hm?"

I pointed. Pearl gazed at the dot, brushing sand from her hands. A concerned look spread itself over her features.

"Alas," she said mildly. "Pirates."

**A/N: Sorry this took so long --- I blame a visit from the muse on another novel I'm working on, school stuff coming up fast, and the impossibility of writing an underwater scene I'm happy with (WHY it's so hard to write about underwater, I don't know, but it is). Whether you accept this excuse is up to you...**

**Slipshod: Thanks! I like Mabelle, too... She's a blast to write.**

**Silver Sparklze: Lol, I didn't catch the Lilly/Boris thing! Amazing the way your subconscious pops up at unexpected moments...**

**Piratess of Summer: I love the new name --- very appropriate! More delegation stuff shall arrive soon. After the pirates, which are there mostly because... well, because I saw a pirate costume and it got me in the mood.**

**teardrop456: Thanks! Hopefully the long update hasn't scared you off. :) I'm normally much more prompt.**

**teenchic2004: Thanks. You've got Mabelle in a nutshell there --- nicely done! **

**Allyp: Um... wow... laughs head off I can totally see your mumsy going off on The Word. And you're right, I should've put B Major in there. B Major scares me. Mabelle is Mabelle, although she doesn't care if I spell it Mabel because I am her Author. Anyone else does it, though, she may just hit them upside the head with a ball of sourdough. **

**Loudolly: Thanks! I like Nessie... she's fun.**

**To everyone: Since people like Mabelle so much, I'll let y'all in on a little secret: Mabelle's actually a recurring character in my fairy-tale-based stories. I just like her too much not to throw her into everything I write --- and besides, every castle needs a know-all no-nonsense cook, don't you agree?**


	12. Forksy: An April Fools Interlude

**CHAPTER FORTY-TWO**

Dinner that night was an interesting affair. We were joined, indeed, by pirates. Several of them. The most notorious would have to be Captain Jack Sparrow. He did bear a striking resemblance to Johnny Depp, I decided, as he downed a third glass of the spiced wine the Mabelle had brought out --- rather unwillingly --- for the guests. He seemed to like it rather much for it not being rum. Captain Hook, a few places down from me, was also fond of the drink. He didn't have a strong enough stomach for it, however; by the end of the meal he was playing with his knife and fork as though they were dolls. This would have been entertaining on its own, but I found the dialogue he employed far more interesting.

"Kiss me, you fool!" cried the fork. The knife gasped in a manly sort of way.

"But forksy!" it cried, in a startlingly deep voice, complete with a strong Scottish brogue. "Ah, my forksy, we mustn't. Tabitha might find us out, and then we shall be put with the camping utensils! The shame! The dishonor upon our kins!"

"Fie upon dishonor!" said the fork. It seemed to be turning into a French maid, by the giggly gutteral way Hook had begun pronouncing his 'r's. I couldn't help but be impressed by his falsetto. Hook stared at the fork for a moment, then, momentarily in control of his motor skills, jammed a hole through the rather nice cloth napkin to create a skirt. He picked the makeshift doll back up and resumed the wild gestures and impassioned speech.

"Fie upon dishonor!" he repeated. "Fie upon shame! Fie upon all but the love for you which burns in my… tines!"

"Ah, forksy, you make my roguish heart burn! I long to embrace you, and yet I feel that my serrated edges shall make harm befall you in most unpleasant manner!"

"Knife, my darling, fear not, for I, too, am made of stainless steel and shall not be harmed. Now kiss me!"

"Truly, forksy?"

"Truly, my love!"

"MWAH!"

With that, the silverware began smooching. Loudly. Pearl coughed delicately into her napkin. I just stared. A while later, after forksy and knife dearest had gone to cuddle and talk about their future family of cutlery while lounging on the mashed potatoes, and Hook by extension had fallen relatively quiet, there was a loud banging on the door. I heard a voice call out something defiant, and then there was a billow of smoke that smelled like cheap perfume. A tall woman marched in, waving her cloak in a way that I gathered was supposed to be impressive.

"I am," she announced dramatically, stopping before the table. "Rochelle!"

Apparently we were all supposed to have some sort of reaction to this. I had expected some sort of trepidation upon meeting her, but one look at her big hair and overly frosted eye shadow was enough to prohibit any dramatic heartbeat-skipping or knee-knocking moments on my part. I looked at her, she looked at me, I raised an eyebrow, she wiggled her eyebrows, I smirked, she growled and then coughed.

"Pearl?" I said. She turned to her husband.

"Ryne?"

He looked at us, down at the legion of pirates all apparently enamored with Rochelle's low-cut cheaply made satin gown, and then shrugged.

"Sic 'em," he said. This seemed to be a cue; the pirates leapt up in one body and started chasing her, some brandishing dilapidated weapons, others trying to be charming. She ran. We never saw her again, although I heard once that she eventually settled down with Sparrow and became quite domestic.

Meanwhile, I finished dinner.

THE END

…

Yeah. April Fools.

Expect a proper update within the next day or two. :)


	13. Pirates and Eran

**CHAPTER TEN**

She turned and walked up the beach, calling "Come on," over her shoulder.

"Wait," I said, jogging to catch up. "Aren't pirates something to be worried about? Just a thought."

"Oh, they're something to worry about, all right," she said. "I'll have to talk to Mabelle, though I don't know how much she can do."

"What does Mabelle have to do with pirates?"

"Well, she's in charge of the scullery maids. I'll have to talk to the head housekeeper, too."

"What does she have to do with pirates?"

"She's in charge of the other maids," Pearl said, as though this were the obvious thing in the world.

"So glad we got that cleared up," I said. We reached the door in the wall and slipped through quickly. "What do the maids have to do with the pirates?" I asked as we walked across the courtyard and into the palace.

"Nothing, if I have anything to say about it," she said.

This conversation was going nowhere. I saw Grethel down a hall; she motioned to us, Pearl nodded.

"Go with her," Pearl said. "I'll see you at dinner."

We went straight to my room, and Grethel drew a bath. I had staunchly refused assistance with bathing from the beginning, and so she waited outside while I washed the sand from my hair and rinsed away the ocean salt. When I emerged, she sat me down and we went through the usual doing-hair ordeal.

"We saw pirates out on the water," I said. She sighed.

"Charming," she said wryly. "Does Mabelle know?"

"What can Mabelle do?"

"Well," Grethel said logically, "she's in charge of the maids."

I rolled my eyes at her reflection. "I heard. How are they involved? I'm new here; enlighten me."

"Oh, that's right," she said. "I forgot, you wouldn't know." She twisted my hair up and started pinning it. "Well, pirates have been coming to these shores for years, well before I moved here. They're not vicious or anything. These are the pirates of… well, of storybooks, like Pearl's from a storybook and I'm from a storybook and you'll probably be from a storybook someday. They're the ones who go around in stripes, swaggering, shouting things like 'Avast!' and drinking up everything in sight." She raised her eyebrows. It was clear what she thought of this behavior. "They will occasionally attack a ship and steal gold, but how many ships really carry gold nowadays? It's all oil and plastic toys from China and the like. Very boring." She finished my hair and leaned back to examine her handiwork. Pleased, she continued, "The trouble is now that instead of docking to Merlana to trade and take in supplies like they used to, they mostly just show up to gamble and get girls. The palace maids are particularly susceptible to that sort of thing --- being kidnapped by a pirate seems to be a badge of honor."

"Thus the need to alert Mabelle and the housekeeper," I said. That made sense. Grethel nodded.

The pirates washed up on shore later that day. Word of their appearance had spread around to some, but to most in the palace it came as a surprise. The king of the pirates met with Ryne, as I gathered was the usual order of things, and then he disappeared to the town. The lights of lanterns could be seen moving up and down a particular street all night, and occasionally shouts would drift up to where I stood, looking down from my open bedroom window.

I had never seen the town up close. Life had been consumed by the goings-on of the palace, but now that I was getting on my feet and becoming accustomed to things, I wanted to see outside. And, truth be told, I rather wanted to see the pirates. Grethel had said that they would probably stay for a week. I tried to gauge the likelihood of someone letting me out to meet them. It seemed slim.

I wasn't tired. I knew I'd get in trouble. I didn't know my way through the town. I did know my way out of the palace. Well, I figured, slipping on the plainest gown I could find, one couldn't have everything. I knew what I was doing was probably stupid, but something in me didn't care. The lights down there had reminded me in an odd way of what it was like to live a normal life, where you went to school and spent time with friends who didn't have to curtsy to you. No one down in the town ever had to sit up straight during diplomatic meetings or remember that a princess showed displeasure with a cold tone and delight with a happy one, being careful not to show an excess of any emotion outside intimate friends and family lest political acquaintances think it a weakness to exploit. People down there didn't have to worry about evil ex-fiancées of estranged parents, either. The idea of Rochelle probably should have kept me safe in my room. Instead, it spurred me on.

The corridor outside my room was dark, lit only by a few dim lamps along the walls. I slid through the side panel that led down to the kitchens and eventually found my way to the door that led to the kitchen gardens. From there it was an easy walk out of the gates.

The ground was unsteady under my feet, but I didn't mind. The fresh air and freedom of being alone was rejuvenating. There was a sort of walkway of brick that I tried to follow, but it had been overgrown by weeds. After a while I came out onto a moonlit stretch of sand that sloped down to the water, crossed it, and came up onto a road that went to the town. It was deserted, and overhung by trees which, though creepy in the darkness, were enough to shield me from watchful castle eyes.

"Marina!"

I jumped and almost choked on my tongue trying to repress a scream. I whirled around.

"Would you quit scaring me like that?" I asked, fright lending a sharp edge to my voice. Eran took my arm.

"Sorry," he said. "What are you doing out here?"

"Escaping."

He tilted his head. "In which case, would you stop doing that?"

I shook myself free. "No. I'd like to see you stuck in a palace all day. I'm getting out. I want to see the pirates."

The last bit sounded very childish. He was kind enough to overlook it.

"Does anyone know you're out?"

"Obviously not."

"Then I'm coming with you."

I frowned and walked on. After a moment's reflection, I said, "Do you know your way around down there?"

He nodded.

"Then you can come," I said, "as long as you don't tell anyone."

He fell into step beside me. "Do all monarchs run away like this? First Cinderella, now you. I must say, it's a strange trait for someone in a leadership position."

"First off," I said, "I'm not a monarch. Not yet. Cinderella and I were both princesses. Secondly, was Cinderella real, too?"

"Of course she was," he said. "Not Merlan, of course. French."

"Right. I remember."

"But her godmother was from here."

"Shocking," I said dryly.

"You sound bitter."

"Of course not. How far is it until we hit civilization?"

He shrugged. I could just make out the gesture in the darkness. "Couple minutes. Stick close to me when we get out there." His voice turned slightly mocking. "You'll see the pirates. But only if you do what I tell you to. If someone sees you, we're both in trouble." There was, I thought, probably no "we" about it. I would be in trouble. He would just get smiled upon as the fine young lad who risked life and limb to rescue the fair princess from the pirates. That's the way life seemed to work, at least if what Grethel had said about certain injustices regarding princess behavior was correct.

We continued in silence. I tried to talk once, but he hushed me, claiming that we were nearby houses. I figured he just wanted me quiet.

Eventually we came out near some nice little homes, very picturesque, with tile roofs, whitewashed walls, and little window boxes spilling over with flowers. The moon illuminated the walls and it, along with the warm light coming from many of the houses, gave us enough light to see clearly. Eran led the way down the street and into a denser part of town. The buildings grew closer together and the people became more common. Finally, we were on a fairly busy little street, filled with shops, small restaurants and a pub, the last of which hosted a great deal of noise. Merlana, apparently, had a decent night life. Who'd have thought? I said as much to Eran, but he only told me to be quiet.

"You look too much like the queen," he said, stopping in the shadows between the pub and the building next to it.

"So sorry."

"Just stay in the dark," he said. "Come on." He led the way around to the other side of the building, where several windows looked conveniently in. He gestured to one of them, and I peered through.

It was a wonderful sight. Every romanticized view of pirates I had ever had was fully satisfied. Several of the pirates had peg legs or eye patches, every shirt was either a variation on stripes or billowy and covered in frills, and their pants were either aesthetically ragged or very nice and very expensive-looking. Earrings were popular, as were hook hands, and three of them had animals --- two parrots, one monkey. The pirates were busy singing and sloshing around great tankards of ale, and quite a few girls had clustered around them to join in the fun.

"I like it," I said with a grin. Eran laughed dryly.

"You would. Come on, you've looked enough."

I reluctantly peeled myself away. "I don't suppose we can go in?"

"No. I value my head more than that, and Lady Lisette would have it if she found out."

He took my hand and led me back the way we had come. With any other guy, I would have snatched my hand back, or, depending on the scenario, tried to decide if I _liked_ him liked him. As it was, however, it seemed perfectly innocent and natural; I let it go. Eran didn't really mesh with my idea of romance --- the idea of him thrown together with, say, Valentine's Day, was almost amusing, making the latter seem superficial and the combination amusing. Plenty of people were on the street around us, but we seemed to be invisible to them. I glanced at Eran and saw him muttering something. More magic. Yippee.

We went quickly through the trees --- he was no doubt anxious to get me back to safety or something --- but stopped abruptly when we got to the path across the sand. "Where are we going?" I asked, for instead of going up to the castle, he was leading down to the water.

"Hush," he said softly.

"What?"

"Trust me." He looked up. I followed his gaze and saw a seagull floating above us. I raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. He sat down and gestured for me to do the same.

"I'm a sea shephard," he said in a low voice. "And I've been told I'm to be your language teacher. As such, I can get away with a lot more than you can."

"How is that relevant?" I asked, trying to match his tone. He nodded up at the bird again.

"That's Ryne's," he said. "Your mother is the sea, your father is the sky. That makes you the land."

"What are you talking about?"

"We just emerged from the trees back there, right?"

"Yeah."

"And that seagull above is almost certainly going to report to Ryne if you're seen out of the palace, especially at this hour."

"Seagulls don't talk." Stupid me, of course; everything talked on this island.

"Those do. You can tell because of the yellow crest on their heads."

"I can't see it."

"Well, you don't know what to look for, do you? Now be quiet so I can finish. The gull is going to report that it saw you come out of the trees with me. You were probably not supposed to head down to town, but it is reasonable that, if you were under stress, you would find solace in a wooded area, as that's your element by birth."

This didn't entirely make sense, but I nodded.

"And," he continued, "it makes sense that I might take you out of the palace in the middle of the night without telling anyone, because in the first place, you're safer with me than with anyone, since I can relay a message to the sea or other shephards if anything happens, and in the second place, such spontaneity is expected in this training, as the mental and emotional blocks the mind puts up have to be bypassed if one is to access the sea speech easily. You see?"

I paused, thought about it, and then nodded. "I guess."

He held a hand out, palm towards me. I gave him a quizzical expression.

"What's that for?"

There was no response. He just gazed steadily at me. The light reflected oddly in his eyes, and a small smile curved a corner of his mouth. An image came into my head of my hand pressed up against his, and before I had time to think about it too much, I had done just that. He smiled.

"Good job."

"Was that what I was supposed to do?"

"It's what I was telling you to do," he said. I did the quizzical look thing again, and he dropped his hand. I did the same. He repeated the steady gaze, and I tried to think of what he might be telling me to do. Nothing came to mind. Put my hand up? Touch my nose? He laughed.

"Stop thinking so hard about it. Just feel."

I tried, and in a moment, my arm lifted of its own accord to rest on the back of my neck. He nodded. Another image came, this one of my hands together in a praying position. I did it, he smiled.

"Send me one," he said. I thought a moment, and then pictured him putting his hand on his opposite shoulder. He did so. A few more pictures followed; he responded quickly to them.

"That is so cool," I said after a while. An unpleasant idea struck. "Can you read my mind? Like, always?"

"No," he said. "Only when you want me to, or when your emotional barriers are low. If you're extremely stressed, for example, or grieving, or in love. Or all at the same time."

An image came; I held out my hands and he pressed his palms against mine, and then pulled back a few inches. His started to move in small circles, and I mirrored. They separated; so did mine. He traced patterns in the air, ever more elaborate, and my hands mimicked. After a while, he leaned back.

"You're not bad," he said. He sounded surprised.

"You expected me to be?"

There was no noise, but his voice came into my head as though from a great distance. "_Yes_." I jumped. He laughed softly, and the thought continued. "_You talk too much. I wasn't sure if you'd have the inner silence required._"

"_I'm the daughter of the sea and sky_," I thought, a bit sarcastically. Immediately, a reply came.

"_You are, more than you think_."

I frowned. "_That's cryptic. I get the feeling you know more about me than I do._"

"_I doubt that, very much. You just haven't been listening._"

"_To what?_"

"_To yourself._"

"Okay, sorry, this is creeping me out," I said after a moment. My voice was strangely loud after the echoing quality of the thoughts. He shrugged.

"_So let it. You can't just run from everything unusual._"

"_Believe me, if I'd run from unusual stuff I'd have left here a long time ago._"

He shrugged. "_Maybe so._" He stood up. "Come on, we'd better head back."

The palace was quiet when I entered. Eran left me at the door, and once I was safely within, slipped off into the shadows. He was very good at slipping into the shadows; wondered if he could teach me. Probably. I shut the door and hurried up to my room.

**A/N: **

**Petals of Esther: Thanks! I'm thrilled the story's coming across as both the old one and something new --- that's what I was aiming for. Generally. You know... as much as you can ever aim these things until the characters take over, lol.**

**Piratess of Summer: It was late, Captain Hook amuses me... I couldn't resist. Sorry to scare you. :D**

**slipshod: I've never heard of "Lucy and the Merman," but I googled it and it looks neat. I'll see if I can get my hands on a copy. And I was going to just replace that chapter with this one, but I'm leaving it up for you. Glad you liked it!**

**teenchic: I'm glad the underwater scene worked out, and that you liked the spoof thingy. It was very fun to write. (Well... what involving intoxicated pirates isn't?)**

**Bingo5: Nope, no Johnny Depp this time! (Although I'll admit, it's tempting, lol.) I actually rather like that ending, too, simply because I like the idea of Rochelle as some big-haired frosted queen of the 80's. She's very much not. Although I'm getting ahead of myself. ;)**

**Allyp: Ah, yes, the green paint is lovely, isn't it? I think people should turn colors more often; it's refreshing. What underwater scene are you working on? I is very interested... And yes, Neptune rocks, doesn't he? And "tines" is such a cool word. **

**porkypick: Thanks! Glad you're enjoying the story, and glad you liked the chapter. I don't venture into the realms of spoof very often (in fic, anyway...) so it was both very different and very fun to write. **


	14. Mensonge

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

"I think not," said a girl, laughing. She lounged back in a peach silk gown and trailed her fingers in the fountain. "If one is to capture the essence of summer… Well, a minor key? Really!"

"But that's just the thing," said a boy beside her. He had a studious face, with dark eyes and a normally withdrawn expression that had come alive with the conversation. "The subtlety is brilliant."

"It's too obvious," she said, shaking her head. "If he's truly after subtlety he'll stick a key change, or have a couple of flats or something. Putting the entire piece in a minor is so sneaky it's plain. The piece will become art for the sake of art and all true expression will be lost."

I followed the conversation in silence. I had no idea what they were talking about, beyond the fact that it involved some great new piece one of the court composers was writing. It was supposed to be an ode to a Merlan summer or something saccharine like that. Everyone but me seemed to know what was going on. They all knew things about music and composition; I knew a couple of chorus lyrics to overplayed Kelly Clarkson songs --- but then, how hard was that? --- and could hack out a few Broadway tunes. Yeah. Sad.

I left as soon as I could find a reasonably polite excuse to do so. These people were nice, and I wished I could talk to them on some sort of equal level, but I had all the advantage of rank on my side and they all the advantage of intelligence and experience. As far as I was concerned, that put me _way_ on the bottom of the totem pole. The maids were better companions. Admittedly, they too had all the advantage of intelligence and experience, but they didn't expect me to match them. We all knew I had no idea what I was doing.

"Your overskirt is on backwards," one of them informed me cheerfully as I entered the kitchen. "It's not supposed to be an apron, it's supposed to show off the flounces in the front."

"Great. Why did no one tell me?"

"Well, no one would notice, would they? You're the princess. Your lady-in-waiting probably forgot and everyone else'll just think you're starting a new trend."

I blinked. "That's ridiculous."

"Yep. Here, help me fold this," she added, flapping a white tablecloth in my direction.

I picked up a great deal of useful information down there. Most of it I didn't even have to be sneaky to hear --- the maids seemed to feel it their bound duty to make sure I knew everything that was going on. For all that I knew, it might have been. I was one of the first to hear when Lyra, the four-year-old I'd met at lunch on my first day in Merlana, fell off a garden wall and hurt her leg. She was all right, fortunately, but had to stay in bed for a few days and was deeply, profoundly bored; I did my duty as a princess and dedicated much time and energy to ensuring her comfort --- also known as skipping lessons --- and encouraging our friendship, which blossomed. I had never contemplated friendship with a four-year-old as being possible, but found that, despite definite gaps in our comprehension and experience levels, I enjoyed talking to her.

The maids also delivered news of a much more secretive variety. One day, a rumor came through the grapevine regarding Rochelle. At least three girls were talking over one another trying to tell me about it.

"It's not her coming, it's ---"

"That's not what I heard," cut in someone.

"Yeah, but you were talking to Enric."

"Good point," said someone else. "Anyway, she's sending ---"

"I thought he was coming on his own."

"No, she sent him. No idiot's going to come without her permission."

"Oh."

"Anyway," cut in a girl named Erica pointedly. The others fell silent; she was considered to be in some authority. "There's news of Rochelle's delegation. She's not coming herself --- she's not that much of an idiot --- or at least not yet. First she's sending some lord of some province."

"He's her nephew."

"She's an only child, dolt," said another girl. Erica rolled her eyes.

"Cousin, then. Friend of the family. Whatever. The point is, she's sending some man who's going to try and convince us all that she's a friend to Merlana and to you. Don't be fooled."

I raised my eyebrows. "I'm not stupid."

"Well, the court of Desviado is known for its charm," she said. "The Desviadans are gracious and convincing almost without exception."

"She murdered my dad. I think I can handle it."

"Ryne's dead?" said a small girl. One of the older girls hit her gently on the head.

"No, Roberto. Her foster father."

"Well, just watch out," said Erica. "Keep your eyes open."

I didn't see the delegate arrive. No such luck --- I was stuck in bed with a cold. Never mind that Merlana was seething with magic; apparently my immune system would get weak if I treated every little inconvenience with a spell. So I was in bed with a load of tissues and various people trying to force soup on me at all hours of the day and night. Grethel was kind enough to keep me updated.

"His name's Mensonge," she said the afternoon of his arrival. "Sounds rather like a manly sponge, doesn't it? Anyway, he met with the king and queen right after he got here. No news yet."

"A couple people talked to him," she said an hour or so later. "Said he's nice enough, but no one likes him. Obviously."

"Well," she said the next time she came up. "A few of the girls like him. He's very attractive. Still, he's from Desviado. No one's likely to forget that soon."

"Well," she said later that night. "I met him."

"And?"

"And he's charming," she said. "I hate him, naturally, but he's charming."

I was not allowed out of my room until all traces of my cold were gone, several days after his arrival. By then, the first fury of gossip had died down, although it was by no means gone. I saw him at lunch. He was already there when I walked in. One glance told me that certain aspects of the rumors were true. He was, for lack of a better word, hot. Very hot.

"Princess," he said, taking my hand and bowing to kiss it. I didn't jerk away quite as quickly as I'd meant to. His eyes were way too dark for my own good.

"Lord Mensonge, I presume?"

"I am, my lady, and it is an honor to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine." I sat down; he resumed his seat across and a few chairs down. Lisette was glancing at me from the corner of her eye.

Mabelle came in with the maids, bearing dishes. Erica was part of the day's lineup; she made a face at Mensonge as she passed behind him. I remembered who he was and assumed a cool demeanor.

"I hope your journey was pleasant?" I asked. He nodded.

"Indeed, all the more so due to my anticipation. I have often heard of the beauty of Merlana and have longed to see its shores."

"I trust you were not disappointed."

I thought I saw Lisette snort into her napkin.

"Not at all. All preconceptions I had were pale in comparison with the real thing."

"Tell me of Desviado," I said. "I have studied the land from books, of course, but never had opportunity to speak to one from that country." I was surprised at the ease with which this formal, half-sincere language sprang to my lips, and at the fact that no one looked at me oddly for it. It was empowering.

"Yes," he said, and nodded. "Relations have been strained of late."

Surreptitious glances darted around the table, from and to everyone. A look at Mensonge told me that he wasn't sure exactly how much I knew. I didn't need an advisor or kitchen maid to tell me that that was to my advantage.

"Well, then," I said with a sweet smile, "do enlighten me. Are the famous mountainous terrains as lovely and treacherous as they say?"

"Our mountains are like your sea, Your Highness," he said. "Powerful, beautiful, and held in great reverence by all. Though different in particulars, I think you will find that Desviado and Merlana are really not so far apart."

"I've never had any such impression," I said. I think I actually fluttered my eyelashes. He smiled. He had a very nice smile.

"That I am glad to hear."

Conversation never actually flowed, but Mensonge and I managed to skim over a great many topics, maintaining an air of distant civility, only occasionally punctuated by some realization on my part of how nice he really was. Ryne was quietly observant, as was his way, Pearl listened but didn't look much at us, and Lisette was unabashedly hawk-eyed.

The next few days passed in a state of quiet expectation. Everyone at the castle was waiting for Mensonge to trip up, and he was doing a very good job at being perfect. We had much opportunity to talk, and I found that I enjoyed his company. This was highly inconvenient. In the first place, he was the unofficial enemy whose boss, last I checked, wanted to kill me, and in the second, I had no support for liking him. Lisette, in particular, made it known that she did not approve. Eran, on the other hand, was a welcome reprieve from the castle. He refused to comment on Mensonge, saying that as he had never met the man he could hardly pass judgment. Instead, he tried --- very patiently --- to instruct me in Marea's language.

"No, sit still," he said one afternoon.

"I can't. The sun's too bright."

"The sun's too bright, the shade's too cold, the sand's too scratchy, the water's too wet," he said. "If you are waiting for ideal conditions you are going to be waiting a very long time."

"I'm sorry. My mind just won't quiet down. I'm restless."

He stood and offered me his hand. "Then let's go adventuring. This won't be exciting, but I think I know somewhere you'll like." He led me up from the beach where we had first met, which served as our classroom most days, and went into the forest. The trees hung cool and green above us. After a bit, he wandered from the path, and we picked our way though underbrush and thick clumps of bushes and fallen logs, until we came out in a little glade. It was beautifully wild. A few old trees covered with moss and lichen stood in a circle. In the center was a soft green carpet of some ground covering, dotted with purple flowers. Eran sat down on this. I ran my hand across the trunk of a tree. It was as though a deep, steady heartbeat was under my fingers.

"What can you tell about it?" Eran asked.

"Him," I said. "It's a him."

"Anything else?"

I listened. The heartbeat continued, but no thoughts came to mind.

"No. But he's friendly."

"All trees are friendly to you."

I sat down. "Is that the elements thing? I'm of the land?"

He nodded. "More specifically, the trees. Every Merlan has a bond with the sea. In addition, every Merlan has a secondary element. Ryne's is the sky, Pearl's sea. You're the earth, especially plants, I'm the earth, especially soil, Lisette is rock."

"So what does that mean?"

"It means you're in tune with your element. You'll be able to hear plants more clearly than other elements, and you'll find yourself drawn to places like this. I'm most comfortable in a garden, for example. Lady Lisette always goes to that beach that's full of stones and boulders when she's upset."

"Shouldn't I be sky or sea, if Ryne and Pearl are?"

"You probably had a grandparent or something who passed the trait on to you. It's just genetics, like your eye or hair color. Your mother was a mermaid, though, so there's some extra magic there --- you ended up being the place in between sky and sea."

'How symbolic."

"Very."

"So I can talk to plants?"

"If you can listen. It's just like talking to the ocean."

"I can't talk to the ocean," I said. "You know that. Every time I get close the sound slips away."

"Like talking to me through thoughts, then. The land will be easier for you. Here, try this flower." He pointed at a little purple blossom. I breathed deeply.

_Hello,_ came my thought. In response, a soft voice whispered something. A moment later, it came again, not so much a word as an impression of warm and air cool shade.

Great. I was the one talking to seashells now. Eran laughed.

"Don't get cynical," he said.

"It's a flower."

"Yes, and you're a mammal."

A bird call entered my mind.

"I'm not getting words," I said.

"Well, you won't. Flowers don't have so much of a consciousness. The only plant you'll really be able to converse with is a tree. Or the dryad within it, rather."

"Dryad?"

"Tree spirit."

"I know what it is. It's ridiculous. So are mermaids."

"Would you stop protesting?"

I shook my head and went over to the tree I had talked to before. I tried to reach out with my thoughts.

_Hello,_ it said. I jumped. The voice was perfectly clear in my head, and followed the word with a soft laugh. _How are you?_

_Fine._

It laughed again, not from amusement but with the kind of indulgent fondness of a grandparent. _Welcome to our glade. _

_Thank you. Did you know I was coming?_

_I felt your steps upon my roots and suspected. The arrival of a princess is rarely accomplished without some forewarning._

I groaned inwardly but said nothing.

_Do not resent it,_ the tree said. _It may serve you well someday. But now you must go. Your mother calls you, unless my leaves are mistaken._

_I didn't know leaves had ears._

_Ears are everywhere. Your mother calls to you, the sun carries their voices, my leaves hear the sunbeams, and I pass the message to you. _

I frowned.

_You are afraid to trust. Fear not; secrets can still be kept and the ones that are not kept… well, perhaps that is for the best? Perhaps. But go now. I will be here when you return, and you shall meet my family. _

I nodded and moved away. Eran, who had been watching me closely, stood also.

"What did he say?" he asked as we made our way back to the path. I glanced over at him.

"You didn't hear?"

"I didn't listen. It wasn't my conversation."

"I thought you could hear everything."

"No," he said with a little smile.

Pearl had indeed been trying to find me.

"Good news!" she said brightly. Her eyes were practically sparkling.

"What is it?'

When she told me, I could barely repress a groan. Thanks to Mensonge's visit, and the recent arrival of several delegates from other countries and provinces, she had decided to hold a ball.

**A/N:** **Again, sorry for the long time between updates... I've been A.C.T.-centric for the past few weeks. That's over now, thank goodness. **

**Oh, speaking of princesses, the following website is... well, it's delightful.** **Wanted: _"A beautiful princess for the prince. She must have make-up. She must be good at swimming. She must be used to kissing. She must have a furry coat. Please come to the castle by calling 01483". _**

http://www.stcatherines.info/prep/fm.html

**porkypick: Thanks! I hope the chapter answered your question --- I hadn't actually given the matter much thought, but when I tried to figure it out, I realized I was just thinking along general genetics lines. Hopefully I haven't written myself into a corner here, of course... I know next to nothing about genetics... :)**

**Piratess of Summer: Oh, twisted indeed! I'm thinking it'll get more so coming up. Hopefully I can keep it all straight, lol...**

**Allyp: Eek, haven't heard of the donkey skin one. That's a bit twisted. I remember the wanted posters --- I still have them floating around in a notebook somewhere. I'll have to dig them up and see if they're as funny as we thought they were. (Probably are, lol.) A scullery maid's artillery? I am _so_ going to use that if I can work it in... And Ryne and Pearl didn't have any more kids because it was too likely that those children would be in danger, too. Pearl especially didn't want to risk it. She was uber-maternal and didn't want to have to give up another child like that.**

**slipshod: I agree, it is kinda cool. I'm hoping I can pull it off without venturing into too much cheesy/cliched territory.**

**teenchic2004: Thanks! I love Eran --- he's developing a little bit differently than I thought he would, but I think it's a good thing!**


	15. Love and Trees and Things

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

The music finished with a flourish of the strings, and applause smattered through the room. The young knight I had been dancing with bowed and I curtsied, as we were supposed to, and then I was on the arm of some Duke Whatsit from who knew where and off again. I actually liked the dancing. I was comfortable with the steps now, and it had become fun. The small talk was less than thrilling, but I managed to get through it. I found myself partnered with Eran next. He was, not surprisingly, very light on his feet and in rhythm with the music.

"Is this as awful as you thought it would be?" he asked. I shook my head.

"No. I love it."

"You're not a bad dancer," he said a while later with mild surprise.

"Did you expect me to be?" I said, then added, "Don't answer that; I already know."

"You constantly surprise me."

"May I?" asked a smooth voice from my elbow once the song had ended. I turned and smiled at Mensonge.

"I'd be delighted," I said. Eran smiled at me, bowed, and headed off, and then Mensonge took my hand and swept me into a waltz. We sailed through the room, and, somehow or other, ended up out on the ballroom balcony. I glanced up at him. It was dark out, and his profile was drawn in stark contrast with the light from the ballroom. My breath caught in my throat.

"Are you all right?" he asked. I swallowed and nodded.

"Fine. Just dizzy. From the spinning."

"Perhaps we should sit."

He guided me gently to a bench. The moonlight sparkled on the ocean off in the distance like little diamonds, and the moon itself was almost too full and beautiful to be real. The air smelled of sea salt and roses, and I breathed it all in.

"Isn't it beautiful?" I said, twisting around to look, one arm leaning on the marble railing.

"It suits you," he said.

"What does?"

"The beauty of the night. You have a grace akin to it."

"Oh," I said stupidly, then, "Thank you." A flush had risen to my cheeks. I looked away from him.

"May I ask you a question?" he said softly. One of his hands brushed a curl from my cheek. I bit my tongue.

"Yes."

"It's rather personal."

"That's all right."

"The man you were dancing with, Eran is it?"

"Yes."

"You are good friends?"

"I suppose so. He's teaching me languages, and we get along well."

"Are you…" He hesitated. He seemed almost nervous; it was not a look I was familiar with on him. "More than friends, perhaps?"

"No," I said. "No, just friends." There was a pause. "Why?"

He said nothing for a while, then took my hand. "You enchant me," he said. I became very aware of how close he was sitting. His fingers pressed into mine. "I spend so much of my time with courtiers and nobility, but I have met none with your elegance and beauty. And you are so unlike others of your station."

"I am incompetent," I said. He laughed softly and shook his head.

"No. You are full of vitality and life. Being around you is like stepping from that crowded ballroom into this fresh night air. You awaken me. I do not know how else to describe it."

"Oh," I said. He was looking down at me with a penetrating gaze. His words still ran through my head. "I don't know what to say," I said.

He kissed me then. It sent a shockwave right down to my toes. I'd been kissed before, but never like this. His mouth was soft and warm and tasted of honey, and when his hand brushed my neck my spine tingled. He pulled me close until our bodies were pressed together; his was warm and solid. He pulled slowly away.

"Don't say anything," he whispered. The sound was like music. He kissed me again. I'm not sure how long we sat there, but I do know that by the time we stood to go back inside, I was floating. The daze didn't leave, and as I sat late that night, brushing the curls out from my hair before bed, all I could see was his face in the moonlight.

We spent hours every day together after that. He read me poetry --- and managed to pull it off without sounding like a complete idiot --- and showered me with flowers and compliments. I had always found that sort of attention irritating, but with him, it was natural and very welcome.

Lisette was, not surprisingly, less than thrilled.

"Not everyone is like Rochelle," I said. She shook her head.

"He's part of her court, that's all I'm saying."

"But ---"

"If you want to make this decision, you're welcome to make it," she said. "I'm not sure I would have wished it for you, but you're old enough to realize what you're getting into."

I let the subject drop. Pearl was hesitantly supportive, once saying that she thought a "friendship" between a prominent member of Desviado's court and the princess of Merlana could perhaps prove beneficial towards healing the hostilities between the countries, and Ryne said nothing. His response was the most parental of the three --- lots of grilling Mensonge about his plans for the future, goals, priorities, and values. Mensonge answered all his questions beautifully, of course. He was equal to any situation.

Life in general continued on its way. Guests for my birthday celebration arrived in a steady trickle. Some stayed at the palace and some lodged in the town, but all spent great amounts of time up in court. I enjoyed the diversity, and was constantly dazzled by the array of kingdoms and peoples I had never before heard of. Hidden nations, it seemed, were all over. There was a society that dwelt in the mountains of Tibet, living in caves and small undiscovered valleys. Another group lived deep under the waters of Loch Ness. These people were amphibious; along with lungs, their necks had sharp red gills. The Loch Ness monster, a woman from there informed me over dinner, was a sort of guard dog, keeping people distracted and far away from the town. Other societies lived underground or deep in rainforests, and some posed as "native peoples" of Africa and Asia, keeping to themselves and privately using magic and maintaining commerce and contact with the other hidden countries. Then there were the islands and continents, Merlana and Desviado among them, disguised and guarded by different brands of magic. With all this company, it was some time before I managed to get back to the kitchens. When I did, I was greeted with a great deal of contempt.

"Bored with the princes?" Erica asked when I entered.

"She's too busy with her _lover_," said a younger girl. Erica rolled her eyes.

"He's nice," I said. "And I'm sorry I've been gone."

"He's nice," Erica mimicked. She handed me a rolling pin, and I set to work with the cookie dough spread on one of the tables. "I warned you he'd sweep you off your feet."

This wasn't quite what I had expected. I frowned.

"We get along," I said. "I don't like him because he's so suave, I like him because…" But when I tried to think of a reason for my affection, nothing came right to mind. "Because," I said again. "He's kind. He doesn't boss people around."

"That's true," said a girl. "I dropped some stuff in the hall and he helped me pick it up."

"Common courtesy," said someone else.

"Not for a prince," the first said. "Especially as Desviadan."

"Exactly," I said. "And he's good to talk to. We agree on a lot of things."

"I wonder why," said Erica. I shook my head.

"No, he's sincere."

"I hope you're right," she said. "For your sake."

I knew I was right. The weeks went by, and I only fell more in love with him. He was gracious and clever and considerate, and interested in me. This, I had to admit, was part of the attraction. Men had always looked at me --- which was generally much more uncomfortable than flattering --- but Mensonge did more than look and flirt awkwardly. He talked to me on equal terms, valued my opinion, and thought I was beautiful. It was very flattering.

I began to fall in love with Merlana, too. With Mensonge as escort, I was allowed into the town on occasion, and reveled in the odd little shops, picturesque streets, and friendly people. There was a warmth about them that couldn't be concealed with curtsies and by-your-leaves, and I was soon friends with shopkeepers and housewives and the young scholars that studied at the king's university. My old home and life receded into the distance, and I found I did not miss it.

Part of this was thanks to Eran. He continued patiently with our lessons, even when I was busy daydreaming about Mensonge and couldn't concentrate, or complained extensively about how stupid it felt, talking to trees. The complaints lessened with time, of course, as I began to comprehend what was being said and how to listen.

_You're silly,_ one of the trees in the glade informed me one day after I had said that I felt silly trying to connect with the moss. I jumped.

_Who are you? _

_The little tree to your left,_ she said. _I'm the cute one._ The old tree I had spoken with before cut in. His voice was as familiar to me as any person's.

_Lindo,_ he said sharply. _The princess is in a lesson. I told you not to disturb her._

I looked at the little tree. It was small and graceful, with glossy little leaves. As I looked, one of the branches fluttered. Eran raised an eyebrow at me.

"I thought you were concentrating on the moss," he said.

"I was," I said. "That tree started talking to me."

_Lindo,_ she said, almost huffily. _My name is Lindo._

"Her name is Lindo," I said.

Eran laughed.

_Excuse my granddaughter,_ the old tree said. I felt Eran's mind tune in; he was talking to both of us. _She is one of the youngest of my family and feels that without constant attention she'll wither and die._

"_She's fine,"_ Eran thought. _"If she will get the princess to pay attention to her lesson, I am grateful."_

"_Hey,"_ I said. He shrugged at me. I turned back to the tree. _"What's your name?"_

_Sabio. The rest of my family is around us, or much of it, anyway. If you'll look around, I'll introduce you._ I nodded. _This is my daughter, Oferta. _

A soft, gentle voice entered the conversation, belonging to a slender tree to Sabio's left. _Hello,_ she said. _Welcome._

_My grandson Arte._

Another tree, slightly twisted but beautiful, greeted me in a whispery tenor.

_Then Lindo, of course, and Alto, Listo, and Alegre._

Different voices filled my head with each name. I said hello, and then the grandchildren began talking. As I listened to them, I became aware of other sounds. The moss beneath me was humming a folk song I had heard a few days previous, birds called directions to one another overhead, and a squirrel mother was scolding her son for teasing his sister. I sat still and listened, barely moving for fear of losing it. Eran touched my hand softly.

"_What is it?"_

"_Listen. There's so much noise."_

"_You can hear it?"_

I nodded.

"_Feel where you're at right now. Feel it deeply enough that you can return to this state later."_

"_There's too much going on."_

"_You'll learn to filter it. For now, just make sure you can get back."_

I did as he said, let the feeling settle into my bones and breath. Carefully, I closed off the sound until I could hear nothing but the wind in the trees --- just the sound, not what it was actually saying --- and then opened my mind again. I found that my understanding came in levels. First I could hear the trees, then the moss and other plants around. Deeper than that, I could hear the animals and the voices on the breeze, and then the rock, and then far off, the sound of Marea singing. There was so much going on; after a while I closed off all but the trees and let my mind settle. Eran gave me a questioning look, and I nodded.

"_I think I've got it."_

A voice came into my thoughts as though from a great distance. I listened more closely until I could hear the voice in the wind. It was Mensonge; he was looking for me.

"I've got to go," I said. Eran raised his eyebrows. He looked more amused than annoyed. I shrugged.

"Fine, then," he said. "I'll see you later."

"Thanks." I smiled and slipped away. Mensonge was in the palace courtyard, scanning the people. I slipped my arms around his neck.

"Hi."

He turned around.

"I was looking all over for you," he said. "Some of the lords and ladies are getting together a game of lawn tennis. I heard you were a good player."

"I'm passable," I said modestly. Truth be told, I had taken to this particular court sport quite well. He raised an eyebrow.

"Always the demure one, my lady. Come. You can instruct me in the game; I fear I am very bad at it."

I found this to be a complete lie. He was as good at tennis as he was at everything else. His perfection might have gotten annoying if I hadn't liked him so much.

We tossed the ball back and forth across the net. An odd little idea crossed my mind, and before I quite knew it, I had opened my thoughts.

I couldn't hear much from him. Well, Eran had said he couldn't read just anyone's mind unless their defenses were low. He wasn't angry, as far as I could tell. Or sad, or riotously happy…

Or in love.

I hit the thought away with the next ball. It bounced off and disappeared. Of course I couldn't read his thoughts; I was as much in love as he was. No doubt it impaired my judgment.

"Princess," he said after the game was over --- which I won, by a very slight margin. "You look lovely when you're out of breath."

I laughed. "That sounds ridiculous."

"But true," he said. "Much of love is ridiculous, is it not?"

I had to concede. He took my arm and we went for a stroll in the garden.

"Oh," he said, in a voice that was a little too casual. We stopped and he fastened a rose in my hair before we continued. "I forgot to tell you."

"What?"

"There has been news from Empress Rochelle."

Long pause.

"And?"

"She intends to arrive here within the fortnight."

"Oh."

"Is the news unpleasant to you?"

"No," I said. A little feeling in my gut said I was lying. I ignored it. "Why should it be?"

"There has been tension between our nations in the past."

"And the past is the past," I said. "There is no need to dwell on it if doing so would only cause more difficulty. No, I shall be glad to meet her."

He kissed me. As always, the touch filled me with a warm, sweet sensation. It was quite enchanting. Whatever tension created by the news quickly fell away, and the world was tinged gold once more.

**_A/N: Sorry about the long space between updates! End of school year crunch._**

**_Bingo7 --- Thanks! I'm glad you're connecting with her. _**

**_teenchic2004 --- It is indeed! I don't know where half the people in my head come from. Glad you liked the last chapter... and that Marina and Eran are bouncing off one another appropriately. _**

**_porkypick --- Lol, then we're all good. :)_**

**_Allyp --- Minor keys... sounds like you, lol. I wish I knew enough about theory to do that... Mensonge isn't "summer rain" so much as "evening musk," methinks. Although perhaps the "summer rain" smell could be added for special occasions. Also, listen to your mother. She's wise._**

**_Audra Laudargue --- Shh! ;) And thank you!_**

**_InChrist-Bilios --- Lol, glad you're back! Hopefully I didn't scare you off with this long lack of update... I'll be better in the future. And yes, Marina's voice/music will come into play later._**

**_EVERYONE --- how interesting is this story? Because it could be wrapped up in the next few (well, I'm kind of wordy, so probably a few plus some) chapters, or it could go on and get kinda involved. I'm not sure which way to go with it, so cast your votes/sound off! Any ideas/thoughts/criticisms/etc. are always welcome!_**


	16. Rochelle

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

Whatever I said to Mensonge, a part of me remained nervous. The two weeks passed in a spirit of uneasiness, although everyone tried to smooth things over with light comments and assumed nonchalance.

"I shall be quite glad to have this past," Pearl said one evening. She and I were alone in her room; she had been showing me a gift her father had sent up, a sort of flute carved from an enameled reed. "I don't hate Rochelle." She paused, then said, "I try not to hate Rochelle. But it will be a relief to see her face and judge with my own eyes what her intentions are."

"Do you suspect her still?" I asked. The flute was smooth under my hands.

"I can't help it." She sounded apologetic. "What she's done… she leaves little room for trust."

I nodded. "It seems a lot of trouble just for a broken betrothal. Although I guess I'd be pretty ticked off if anyone came in here and tried to run off with Mensonge."

A low laugh emerged from Pearl. "I imagine that's true."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"Why did you do it?" She raised her eyebrows in a gentle question, and I shrugged awkwardly. "I don't want to sound all accusing or anything, but you did sort of come in and have an affair with someone else's fiancé."

When she spoke, her voice was thoughtful. "I knew Rochelle didn't love Ryne, not as I did. She found him handsome and charming, and he was all that. But she didn't love him. She loved the land, and the power. I loved him for himself, and that seemed a higher call than prior commitment." She looked absently at the flute and pressed one end against her fingers. "I suppose it wasn't completely ethical, but I didn't think at the time. I just knew that he was too wonderful to live a life with someone who cared less than I did."

"Oh."

"Do you think it was wrong?"

I shook my head. "No."

"Good."

"What are we going to do when she arrives?" I asked after a while.

"How do you mean?"

"Are we making a big deal over it, or is she just another guest?"

"A bit of both. She'll receive a special audience, of course, and a banquet will probably be held shortly after she gets here. No more or less than is due an 'old friend.'"

I laughed at the delicate phrasing. Pearl looked startled, then shook her head, smiling.

"I know, it's all ridiculous," she said.

"But such is royal life," I said. "I've figured that much out."

"Yes, such is royal life. I'm almost sorry to pass it on to you."

I shrugged. "Such is life, royal or otherwise."

She nodded. "Anyway, you shouldn't have to deal much with her. In fact, I think it's best if you avoid her company entirely, at least when there are no other people around." There was a deeply worried air about her face, but it soon faded. She slid off the bed; I handed the flute to her and she restored it to its case. "Would you like to learn to play?"

"I can't even play the piano."

"Then you're not trying very hard," she said. "Music is in your blood."

"The piano's not music, the piano is a lovely instrument made of wood and wire that requires far more eye-hand coordination than I've got to play."

She shrugged. "Maybe you'll have more luck with the flute, then. Father sent it for you, you know."

I hadn't known, but nodded.

"All right then," she said. "Oh, don't look at me like that. If you don't like it you don't have to, but at least try."

"I'll try. I don't promise to be any good."

"You don't have to be. Come on, it's time for dinner."

I woke up the morning Rochelle arrived with a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. Grethel, when she came in to help me get dressed, was overly talkative. I listened in silence.

"Her ship arrived in port," she said. "The harbor where most of the boats dock, you know the one?"

"I can see it from my window," I said, waving. I had watched the craft sail into view early that morning, and drop anchor some distance from the shore. Rowboats had been ferrying back and forth ever since, bearing trunks and people dressed in rich colors. I could see little detail, but one thing was clear: Rochelle was a pack-rat. Grethel went to the window and looked out. A moment later she came back, and began pulling clothes from my wardrobe.

"What are you doing?" I asked, after the fifth gown had been throw on my bed. Usually she came out with just one, or two to compare, if we were to have important visitors.

"It's important that you make a good impression."

These were not good impression dresses. The necklines were all low, a few lacked sleeves entirely, and several were designed to emphasize the bust in no discreet fashion. The jewelry she was pulling out to hold against the gowns was far too elaborate and wealthy for this time of day. I frowned.

"You're trying to make me look like a femme fatale."

"A what?"

"A seductress."

"I am not."

"You are. I'd fall out of that bodice."

Grethel pursed her lips. "I just think," she said delicately, "that it may do nicely to remind Rochelle that she's not as young as she once was and needn't try to impress us with her money or the king with her figure. We're well off as a country and our queen and a princess both have twice her elegance and beauty."

I laughed and hugged her. "Merlana's perfect the way it is, and I know Ryne won't so much as look at her. I'd rather everyone in the castle not be staring at me, though." I went to the closet and came out with a flowing white dress. When Grethel saw it, she laughed.

"Innocence."

She was awesome like that. I nodded.

I was summoned to the throne room for the formal audience. Rochelle entered in grand style, sweeping her gown around. It was velvet, far too heavy for this time of year and climate, and covered in heavy-looking jewels. Rochelle herself was ethereally beautiful. She had long blonde hair that flowed down her back in perfect waves and curls, large dark blue eyes, flawless skin, and a warm, friendly smile. She was also small, slender and petite with a figure I envied deeply, and looked scarcely older than myself. When she reached the throne, she swept a graceful curtsy. Everything about her bespoke elegance and refinement.

"Welcome to Merlana," Ryne said. She glanced up at him through lowered lashes.

"I am more glad than I can say to be here," she said. "It brings me great joy to see these shores again."

Pearl said something in welcome, and Rochelle replied pleasantly. I paid little attention to what was being said and focused wholly on watching. Behind the smiles, everyone was guarded. Rochelle and Pearl were sizing one another up, Ryne's shoulders were tense, and Rochelle kept flicking glances over towards me.

"This is our daughter, Princess Marina," Ryne said. I extended a hand, palm upward, as Desviadan culture dictated. Her eyebrows raised slightly --- in surprise, perhaps, that I knew the etiquette for the situation --- and she placed her hand, also palm up, in mine. The gesture was symbolic of having nothing to hide; rather ironic, I thought.

She had dinner with us that night. She and Mensonge had greeted one another quite civilly, if they were a bit formal. He paid extra attention to me, in what I took to be a show of moral support. Afterward, Rochelle, claiming tiredness from the journey, retired to her rooms, and Mensonge and I went out to walk along the beach. He looked vaguely silly in the wilder outdoor setting, although perhaps that was simply because I was used to Eran, who melted into the shore like a grain of sand. Mensonge was too upright and courtly for somewhere so untamed, and claimed that the wind irritated him. Still, he knew I loved the spot, and I loved him for it.

"You behaved beautifully," he murmured into my ear.

"How did you expect me to behave?" I asked. I pretended a sort of indignant air, although I was glad to hear the words. Caught up in observing Rochelle, I had been unusually clumsy, almost spilt my soup twice, and fumbled greatly for conversation.

"Oh, like a princess," he said. "But your grace under pressure always amazes me." He slipped his hand around my waist. We stopped and looked out at the sea. I looked out, anyway; he was looking at me.

"I… like her," I said finally. "She seems… well, I don't know her very well, and I know there have been problems in the past, but I think she'll be quite tactful about the whole thing."

"No doubt of it," he said. He kissed the nape of my neck.

"She seems very proper, anyway."

"Of course." He'd moved to my shoulder and was trying to push down the sleeve of my gown. I shifted away; he wasn't particularly deterred.

"She's beautiful," I said.

"Not half as lovely as you," he said. He'd managed to get the one sleeve down; I twisted away and pushed it back up.

"You don't like it?"

"Of course I like it," I said. "Just… not now. And especially not here."

"Just this, then," he said, and kissed me on the lips. The same honey taste and warmth that always filled me were there, and I let myself be wrapped up in his arms.

The next few days were highly charged. I avoided Lisette as much as possible, for every time she managed to get me alone she either started warning me against being alone with Rochelle or muttering about how it wasn't for her to say, not at all, but she rather would have thought there would be more security measures put up. I appreciated the thought, as it all stemmed from concern about me, but the affection got wearing after a while. Pearl was also a bit obsessed with the subject, constantly reminding me to tell her of anything suspicious and to avoid Rochelle's solitary company, although, of course, there was probably nothing to worry about and perhaps Rochelle really had mended her ways. Ryne shared their solicitousness in his own way.

"Don't do anything stupid," he advised me, and let it drop.

I found myself breaking these warnings about a week after her arrival. I had wandered into the library, trying to find a book on phoenixes for some homework Nereida had assigned, and, turning into an aisle on the way to my destination, almost ran into Rochelle. She glanced up from the book she had been looking at and smiled. It wasn't unfriendly, but I was guarded.

"Sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

"Oh, nonsense," she said with a light laugh, waving a slender hand. She closed the book and replaced it on the shelf. "Such a lovely collection."

"Yes, it is."

I backed up, remembering the warnings of all three of my parents. "If you'll excuse me," I said hastily, "I've got to find a book. I was supposed to have it out days ago, but you know how it goes." I doubted that she did, but she nodded.

"Of course." She turned back to the shelf, gave it a cursory glance, and I slipped away, murmuring some vague farewell that she returned. I almost thought she had been as glad as I was to see me go. I left the library in haste. The homework might be late, but Nereida could deal with it. I was following the king and queen's orders; the fact that I had let it wait till the last minute was totally irrelevant. Mensonge was coming into the library as I was leaving; I gestured toward where Rochelle was just visible, and he gave me an understanding look and nodded.

**

* * *

****_A/N: This is probably redundant by now... but I'm sorry this has taken so long! Life, as usual. (It bears noting that actually falling into like with someone makes writing about being in love ridiculously difficult. Don't know why, but it's a bit of an inconvenience, methinks.)_**

**_Piratess of Summer: Your apprehension is probably well-founded... ;)_**

**_teenchic2004: Lol, you've got it mostly right on there. There will, of course, be further complications._**

**_porkypick: Good advice, which I intend to follow. Thanks!_**

**_Allyp: Aren't the trees fabulous? I like them... You're reading Marina completely right... or maybe you just know me too well, lol._**

**_Bingo7: A spell? Ah... Ahem. ;)_**

**_Audra Laudargue: Thanks much! _**

**_Weirdness Rocks: I'm glad you like it! Hopefully I haven't scared you off with this long absence... I'm normally more prompt. :)_**

**_kirstiemuggins: Thanks! And ditto the above about scaring you off, hehe._**

**_InChrist - Bilios: Thanks for all the wonderful comments! The one about screaming vs. fainting in particular made me laugh, lol._**

**_slipshod: You shouldn't trust Mensonge, I love the trees too, and I'm definitely going to keep writing this!_**


	17. Eavesdropping

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

"I think you should follow your instincts," said Eran. He threw a stone out toward the waves; it skipped, then splashed and sunk beneath the surface of the water. I drew my knees up to my chest and rested my head on them.

"But what if I don't know what that is?"

"Then maybe you should try listening."

That was always his answer. "I've tried that. I'm still confused. You're better at this than I am; why don't you just come up to the palace, meet her, and tell me whether she's actually a threat or not?"

"You'd ignore whatever I have to say," he said. "Anyway, it's a skill you need to learn and there's no time like the present."

It was useless; I gave up. He wasn't going to come deal with Rochelle for me, and I was in no mood to listen. What with one thing and another, I had been completely unable to hear anything but the trees since Rochelle had arrived. Even Marea was silent. Eran's advice had been to stop worrying, but that was easier said than done. I kept running into the woman at all times and places, and in addition had to contend with mealtimes. She almost always joined us, and lately Mensonge had taken to sitting in between her and I. His keeping her away from me was appreciated, but for some reason or other his being close to her made me nervous.

Late that night, I snuck down to Ancora Cove. It was probably unwise, what with the danger everyone claimed I was in. As usual, I was too annoyed with life to care. The sand was still warm, and I cuddled my bare feet into it. A breeze coming from behind and scented with flowers played with my hair, and I settled in and started listening. After a while, a few voices finally came on the wind.

We need to replace some of the zucchini with tomatoes next year; this stuff grows like a weed!

Oh, you're just saying that.

What did you think of his lecture? I found it riveting.

Where's the butter?

Ooh, look at the moon, isn't it lovely?

The thing about sea turtles is…

I caught a one more line: _I don't mean to be offensive, dear, but pink looks appalling on you,_ and in response, an exclamation of _Mother!_ in that tone that transcends all time and space, and then it all faded into the soft meaningless whisper of the breeze.

I stayed there, looking out at the water. A few more voices surfaced.

I'm just doing what you told me to.

Remember what I said.

You cannot honestly believe that!

These seemed vaguely familiar. The last had definitely belonged to Pearl. I strained to hear more, and, naturally, everything fell silent. By the time I had relaxed enough to listen, the conversation had changed. I clung to the first familiar sounds. It was Pearl and Ryne without question; they must be outside somewhere.

_Do you really think she's forgotten?_

_Of course not,_ Ryne said. _I'm not such a fool as you seem to think. But I ---_

_Did I say I thought you were a fool? _

_No, but that was certainly the implication. I was going to _say_ that I think she's realized how weak her position ultimately is and isn't going to make any stupid moves._

There was a silence. I thought I'd lost the thread of breeze their words were floating down to me on, but after a moment, Pearl's voice rose again.

Ryne, this is our daughter. I don't know if you forget the past or just choose to ignore it, but this isn't a game. The woman has attempted murder; Roberto is dead thanks to her and I can guarantee you that Lisette has not forgotten it.

Oh, yes, I've heard all of Lisette's theories. But I maintain, as I have since the beginning, that if we keep our distance and maintain a polite front this entire visit will go off without complications.

But ---

She's dangerous! I know that!

Hush! Do you want everyone to hear you? There's no need to yell.

It seems sometimes that that's the only way you'll listen to me.

There was another long pause. I had to focus to keep listening. Finally:

I'm going to bed.

Wait, Pearl. I didn't… Pearl!

And then they faded out completely and didn't return; they must have gone inside. My listening skills were not so developed as to penetrate stone, not yet. I exhaled deeply. Great. Well, maybe Grethel was right. Ryne certainly wasn't looking at Rochelle, but she had managed to fluster him anyway, if only through his wife. Oh, well, it couldn't last forever. Still, I decided --- not for the first time --- that my birthday and her resultant departure couldn't come soon enough.

* * *

I took a deep breath of the cool night air. The scent of petunias wafted towards me from the hanging baskets beside the fountain, from which water cascaded up and down in a glowing spray. The lights that illuminated it were bright white, and cast strange shadows through the pool. A few coins glinted at the tiled bottom; that particular tradition had made its way to Merlana in the distant past. Here, however, I suspected that the wishes cast with the coins were more likely to come true. Everything was more likely to come true in Merlana; it was as close to perfection here as any place could be. 

Mensonge had asked me after dinner to meet him here at ten. It was nine-thirty. I had come down early to enjoy the cool night air and free myself from Lisette, who had started to try her warnings again. I sat down on the stone edge of the fountain and took a deep breath. I had been practicing listening to things the past few days, and, though I hadn't caught Ryne and Pearl arguing again, I had been able to slip into the sounds easily and could separate layers. I caught the voices in the fountain. Marea cast her influence through it, and I could hear her voice singing something faint and lovely. The petunias were quietly talking amongst themselves. Flowers never had much to say; like fruits, vegetables, and most small plants, they didn't have real awareness and personality. They simply channeled the thoughts in the wind. Flowers tended to catch women's voices, fruits caught children's, vegetables caught men's, and everything else caught the thoughts and words of animals and trees.

My own thoughts had been caught by the voices of those humans in the area. Some couple was walking somewhere near the rose gardens. I smiled; that was probably where Mensonge was going to take me. He'd done that before. These two were murmuring sweet nothings; not particularly interesting. I would hear some of my own soon.

_Stop here, _said a voice. My heart skipped a beat; it was him. The sound was coming from the gardens, but away from the other couple. I smoothed down my skirt and was in the process of tucking a strand of hair behind my ear when I caught a reply. 

I froze. That voice, too, was unmistakable. Sweet, elegant, smooth, and Desviadan. My ears strained for more; the sound faded. I took a deep breath and tried to relax. A moment later, Mensonge spoke again.

_I do only as you ask, my lady._

_And you do it well._ She was practically purring. _Of course, your manifold charms gave me little reason to doubt, but you have so far succeeded beyond my wildest expectations._

_She is naïve, _he said. _A mere child._

_Woman enough._

_Yes, woman enough._ There was a silence, and then he said in a lower tone, _But nothing compared to you. _

She laughed. _Save the sweet words for… later._

_Later?_ His tone was hopeful.

_\Come to my quarters after you have finished with the princess,_ she said._ Let no one see you… but I do not need to tell you that._

_I should think not._

_Go. Work your magic, then come back to me._

_I always shall._

The words faded as my head began to reel. This was… it was… I didn't have the words to figure out what it was. My stomach had clenched and was slowly turning to rock in my stomach.

Mensonge. Rochelle. Together. Like… that.

I sank slowly down onto the edge of the pool. The sight of the mundane-looking stone beneath my feet filled my vision and mind, crowding out the more unpleasant thoughts. There were footsteps. I looked up, and saw with a blank detachment Mensonge coming towards me. He didn't seem to notice the extreme preoccupation on my part, and held out his hand to help me up. I stood.

"Darling, you're all wet," he said, glancing at the rim of the fountain. I blinked and tried to gather my thoughts.

"No," I said. "It just looks damp, I'm quite dry."

"That I am glad to hear." He kissed me. I let him; somehow or other my lips responded. The honey taste was there again. It was soothing, but as soon as he pulled away, the unsettled feelings returned.

"What's the matter?" he asked. I shook my head. The wheels in my brain had started to move again, and the only idea that stayed in my mind was that I had to keep up the pretense. Some part of myself recognized that I was not in a state to make any decisions, and that I had to keep him from knowing what I knew. It was a cold, rational side of my mind, and I let it take over. He was looking at me intently with those dark eyes of his. I straightened.

"Nothing," I said. A smile slipped itself over my features. "It's been a long day. Lisette's been pestering me again. I'm glad to see you."

"And I you. Shall we go for a walk? I have a surprise."

I nodded and took the arm he offered. My body found its usual place close to him and maintained the usual flirtatious sway my hips took when he was around. We went into the gardens; the scent of roses was overpowering. It seemed sickly tonight, too sweet, too much. He plucked a blossom and handed it to me, and I managed to smell it and look pleased. After a few minutes in the flower-filled labyrinth, we turned a corner and came upon a table, set for two, with white candles softly glowing over golden candlesticks and cut crystal goblets. A bottle of wine stood in the center of the table next to a vase of flowers and small platter of sugar-covered pastries.

"Oh, Mensonge!" I gushed. "It's lovely!"

He pulled out my chair for me and nuzzled the back of my neck as I sat. The touch was warm. Perhaps I had misheard. He certainly was acting as though he loved me, wasn't he? He took a few steps away, and I shook my head slightly. I was being an idiot; even I could tell that the conversation earlier was nothing good.

"I'll be right back," he said. "I have another surprise."

He disappeared behind a rose-draped wall. As he moved away, I could feel both whatever sympathy I had with him fading. He returned a moment later. I noticed with bemusement that the closer he came, the more I felt like forgiving and forgetting. It was a strange, yo-yoing emotion. I took note of it, and then was distracted as he handed a small box to me. I panicked for a moment, fearing that a ring might be inside and wondering how I'd avoid an engagement without raising his suspicions --- his behavior over the past weeks had led such a scenario well within the bounds of probability --- but when I opened the box, I found only a beautiful necklace folded inside with large opals in heavy gold settings. I beamed.

"Oh, it's beautiful!" I said. He took it gently from the box and fastened it around my neck. The moment the metal touched my skin, I felt a tingling warmth that spread through my body. It was a perfect evening, Mensonge was perfect, and I was blissfully happy. This time the feeling stayed. Why had I been so upset earlier? I was just overreacting like the silly girl I was. Mensonge hadn't done anything wrong, and he was a dear for bringing me such a lovely gift and making such an effort so I could have a nice evening.

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**Audra Laudargue: I too. ;)**

**InChrist-Bilios: Lol, you can have at the boy now, he went and got another girlfriend. Inconvenient, but as you can see, I'm quite able to write again. Hehe. Thanks. And aren't dads great?**

**Allyp: 1) You're very clever and your suspicions are good, as you can probably see by this chapter. 2) I can write now. :p 3) Some old type of flute that's more like a recorder and is wood and intricately carved, and, uh, I think I'm going to need to do a proper description next time it comes into play. 4) I want to see the underwater scenes! and 5) Tines, indeed!**

**Piratess of Summer: Ooh, thanks! Subtle wit, snobbish evil, and sexily exuding evil... I'm completely flattered and think this story must be on the right track:D**

**teenchic2004: You should be nervous. Very nervous. evil laughter And thanks --- the hand gesture was all mine. I love weird little touches like that.**

**slipshod: Lol! Keep reading... **


	18. Lessons

I awoke the next morning with a pounding headache. It was early; Grethel hadn't come in yet. I rolled over and groaned, wondering if anyone in this castle had a painkiller. The necklace caught my eye. I had placed it carefully on my nightstand. A slight smile crossed my lips, and I reached out to touch it. The second my finger connected, a tingling feeling shot up my arm. It reminded me of the first time I had heard Marea, only this was heavier and seemed to penetrate my bones. My headache had disappeared. I pulled my hand away; the tingling left and the headache returned. I touched the necklace, pulled away, touched it, and pulled away again. Each time, the sensations came and went. I frowned.

After Grethel had come and gone and I had drunk a cup of a pungent tea that she said would help my head, I wrapped the necklace carefully in a handkerchief and stuck it in my sash. My first class was with Nereida. She had begun to teach me elementary magic, as I didn't have a proper magic teacher yet, and I thought she might be able to help.

"I'm to your left," she called as soon as I entered the greenhouse. "Behind the oliviary trees."

I followed her voice under the trees --- native to Merlan, short with broad leaves coated in a natural oil full of swirling colors, like the surface of a bubble --- and found Nereida crouched next to a pond, plucking leaves from some plant that grew around its edge. "Help me pick these," she said. "And then I've got a couple droughts I want you to start brewing."

"All right," I said. I knelt on the ground and began picking the glossy leaves. "What is this?"

"Poppir," she said. "It's a good garnish in small doses. Eat too much and you'll find yourself feeling a bit intoxicated. I use it mostly for potions."

When we were done, we went to our table, where she had already spread out an array of herbs, bowls, and decanters.

"Right," she said. "These are ---"

"Wait."

"Yes?"

"I've got a question really quick before we start," I said. I reached into my sash and pulled out handkerchief. The cloth fell away from the necklace as I placed in on the table. "What can you tell me about this?"

Nereida gave me a calculating look, and then leaned over the necklace. "Opal," she said. "It will obviously conduct magic well. And gold. The style seems quite modern, with perhaps a hint of Baroque Europe. I couldn't really say; I don't know much about jewelry."

"Touch it," I said. She gave me another look, and then did so. A strange expression crossed her face and she quickly pulled away.

"Where did you get this?" she demanded. I scanned her face, trying to come up with a lie, and then shook my head.

"I can't say."

"You can't or won't?"

"Won't."

She eyed me, then pursed her lips.

"Fine. You're a reasonably intelligent individual. Don't disappoint me."

"Deal," I said, then added, "Thank you. So what can you tell me about it?"

"Well, it's clearly got magic on it. Heavy magic at that." Carefully, she picked it up and held it in her hands. "There are at least three spells here; one dulls the senses, one induces euphoria, and I can't place the third. There's just a funny feeling to it, a sort of buzzing. Like a love spell, only there's something off."

"Like what?"

"I'm not certain. It's corrupted."

She wrapped it back up. "I'd advise you not to wear this, or touch it too much if you can help it," she said, handing the package back to me. I nodded.

"I'd figured as much."

"Are you sure you don't want to tell me what this all is about?"

"Yeah. If anything else comes up I'll let you know, though. Thanks."

"That would be advisable." She pursed her lips. "Right. We'll be trying a sedation draft today…"

I saw Mensonge at lunch. A flicker of concern crossed his face when he glanced at my neck.

"Where's your necklace?" he asked, assuming a sort of doting concern. "Did you not like it?

"Of course I did," I said. "But I was just in the greenhouses and didn't want it falling into a pot of soil. It's far too lovely."

I kissed him; he looked satisfied. Lunch was exhausting; the mere process of keeping up the charade drained my mind of all other thought. I watched my plate and tried to act engaged whenever anyone tried to talk to me, but my mind was wrapped around my situation and wouldn't let go.

Piano lessons later in the day did not help matters. That instrument and I were not friends, and would never be friends if I had anything to say with it. Not that I didn't try… the thing just hated me.

"You must pay attention," Mistress Sonea said. "You don't practice the way I tell you to."

"I do, I just ---"

"You do not. I have been teaching this instrument for years and when a student practices like I say to, I know. You are to go measure by measure. Build each note upon the one before. If you'll just practice as I say this will all be much easier."

I frowned. She might have a point, but her way of practicing was boring. I sighed and put my hands back on the keys. She stopped me.

"You're not getting this."

"I'm sorry."

"No, don't apologize." She clucked her tongue. "Come, let's try something else."

She left the room, leaving me to stare idly at the keys. Around the same time I was getting bored and starting to look around the room for something interesting, she returned, carrying a long wooden case. She sat down next to me and opened it; inside was the flute Pearl had showed me.

"You've seen this before?"

I nodded. "Pearl said it was from her father."

"As such, I expect you'll have an easier time with it. Music runs in your blood, but I think we need to release it." She handed me the flute. It felt light and smooth in my hands.

The next hour was spent practicing the notes. It was easier this way, as though some kind of intuition were guiding me. Sonea looked pleased, if not surprised. By the end of the hour I had managed to squeak out a simple tune, some Merlan nursery rhyme.

"Keep practicing," she said as I left. "Take it to the sea, perhaps she'll guide you."

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**A/N: WOW. So that was a massive case of writer's block which I still am not totally over... I apologize VERY sincerily for the long delay. I'm still feeling kind of stuck, so if anyone wants to throw prompts at me, or better yet, questions you want answered or scenes you'd like to see... go for it! Also, I don't know if anyone's ever tried to private message me, but I formerly had a defunct e-mail address as my login so messsages wouldn't have gotten to me. Now it's updated and functional (I'm assuming...) so, should anyone want to PM me for whatever reason, it'll work now. :) Oh, and also, I apologize for any typos/horrible sentences/etc. I figured I could either wait until I had time to edit or I could just get the chapter up already... seemed that updating was the priority, lol. Anyway... yeah. :)**

**InChrist-Bilios: I agree, Mensonge has issues. His motivation... well, it'll become clear. I'll work it in somewhere, lol.**

**Piratess of Summer: Glad you're enjoying!**

**Bingo7: Lol... those characters really should start listening to you. Spongeman indeed. I had a hard time not referring to him as that after I read your review... :p **

**slipshod: Hahahahahahaha! Have patience... :)**

**Audra Laudargue: You're quite right about the necklace, as you see... the joys of magic...**

**teenchic2004: Thanks! That's exactly the reaction I was hoping for. :D**

**Allyp: Yes, Rochelle and Manly Sponge are cousins. Double the ick. Jars of honey indeed... lol... You know, I hadn't even thought of frog living rooms... Hm... Maybe there's a darker side to Eran than I thought... SMA will show up eventually, lol... And yes, you're catching my little clues... all hail! And I want more underwater stories. :D**


	19. Discussion

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

"What are you doing?"

Irritation flared; Marea laughed. I twisted around, lowering the flute.

"Practicing this," I said. "I figured I'd come outside so as not to injure anyone's ears."

"I'm sure you're not all that bad," Mensonge said. I affected a smile.

"That's sweet of you to say."

He laughed. "I thought you might be… communing with the sea or something."

I raised my eyebrows. I had been talking to Marea as Mistress Sonea had suggested, and she had been helping. It was somehow easier while she sang along.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I've heard that Merlans can talk to the ocean," he said, with a little raised eyebrow that said he thought this doubtful. I had never discussed my language lessons and new abilities with him, and now hardly seemed the time to start.

"Don't be ridiculous," I said. "Perhaps a few of the shepherds can but that's far beyond my level of skill."

"It's true, then?" he asked.

"How should I know?" I smiled to soften my tone. "I'm far too busy being in love with you to worry about things like that."

Ugh. I could gag myself sometimes.

"Well, darling, if we're discussing love, you ought to know that you are my first thought when waking and my last before sleep." He trailed his fingers along my shoulder. A cool breeze came off the ocean, giving me a good excuse to stiffen and stand up. I brushed sand from my skirt.

"It's a bit chilly out here," I said. "Anyway, I promised Pearl I'd have tea with her."

"Then I'll walk you up." He placed an arm around my waist; my stomach squirmed. The man had hands like an octopus… no offense to octopi intended, of course. We made our way through the trees and up to the castle gate. He wouldn't hear of me going up alone and took me all the way up to Pearl's suites. I left him at the door with a smile and a promise that I'd see him later.

Pearl actually had no idea I was coming up, and I waited for Mensonge to leave so I could sneak away. But no, of course not. He stood there, a suave smile on his face, waiting. Idiot. I knocked.

"Oh," she said when I opened the door, looking mildly surprised to see me. "Hello."

"Hi," I said. "I'm here for… tea."

She glanced from me to Mensonge and back again. "Oh, of course. I was so wrapped up in making these rooming arrangements that I completely forgot. I'm so glad you didn't!" She ushered me in. Mensonge bowed, she nodded her head to him and smiled politely, and then the door was shut. She folded her arms and raised her eyebrows.

"Sorry," I said, feeling that the word was a rather bad explanation. She seemed to think so too.

"What's going on?"

"I had to get away. He's driving me insane."

She eyed me for a minute, then said, "Well, if you're here for tea, let's have some tea, shall we?"

What was I to do? I nodded, we sat down, and I waited for the questions to start.

"Biscuit?"

"Thanks."

"Sugar?"

"Yes, please."

She leaned back in her seat.

"So what's the matter?" she asked. "You don't go from being in love to being 'insane' overnight."

I bit my lip. She was looking at me with an expression that was all too kind, and soon the words were tumbling out. I told her all about Mensonge and Rochelle and what I'd overheard, the necklace, and she listened in silence, emotions crossing over her expressive face as rapidly as I spoke.

"I'm somehow not shocked," she said, when I was finished. She took a long, slow sip of her tea. "But it is terrible that you had to go through all this."

"It's my own stupidity," I said, shrugging.

"You're young."

"That's a bad excuse," I said. She nodded.

"Or a reason. Anyway, what are you going to do now?"

"I don't know. Wait until he has to leave and then talk about how long-distance relationships never work out or something."

"Marina, he's probably not going to go back to Desviado," she said. "You're being courted."

This was doubtless more etiquette, culture, and protocol. I fiddled with my skirt. "What does that mean, exactly?"

"He's serious." Her eyebrows drew together. "Much more serious than I think you realized. Your closeness, the time you spend together… he doesn't intend to return to Desviado. You're moving very quickly towards marriage."

"No, I'm not," I said. The idea was chilling. "I don't want to get married. Definitely not to him."

"You didn't realize…"

"No."

She leaned back. "Well, then." She fell silent for a while; we were both in thought. "At least you have grounds for breaking off the relationship," she said. "You'll probably need more proof that he's involved with Rochelle. That, or you can start the process of removing all appearance of attachment. Falling out of love, so to speak, in a very formal and open way."

"Can't I just, I don't know, talk to him? After my birthday and everything, I mean."

"No. This isn't just between the two of you. You're a princess. Your relationships will never be private."

"That sucks."

She tilted her head.

"Sucks?"

"It's an expression. It means… bad."

"Oh. Yes, it sucks."

"So what do I do?"

She gazed into the distance for a while. "For your own security, I suggest you do nothing until after your birthday. It's unlikely he'll propose before then --- protocol advises against it, as you're going to be busy with celebrations and your coronation. In the event he does, you need to ask for time to think about it. A lady of your station can reasonably expect, oh, three months, which will give you time. It might be easier for you if he simply _does_ propose; then you might refuse him and have it be done with. But not until after your birthday."

I still wasn't certain what exactly the significance of my birthday was, but the general assumption seemed to be that I'd receive some magical power. I asked her about it.

"I can't really explain," she said slowly. "You'll discover gifts and talents rather suddenly. I can't say for certain what they'll be, but you'll know when they appear. As they do, you'll be trained to control and use them. It's a long process; every Merlan royal has gone through it."

"What kind of… talents?"

"All sorts. Ryne has incredible artistic talent. He can paint something and make it happen."

"I've never seen him use it."

"No, you wouldn't have. As well as being a powerful gift it's very dangerous. Leave someone's ear off in a painting and next thing you know it's been hacked off by an errant sword in the knight's practice courtyard."

"Wow."

"He can also fly," she said. "Among other things. I suppose you know that his element is air," she added. "Flight is another talent he doesn't use much, but it can be useful at times."

"So could I expect something earthy?"

"It's likely. I believe some of your gifts have already begun to manifest. Eran tells me you speak easily with the tree-folk."

"Yeah. All plants."

"You'll probably find that to increase. Some intuitive knowledge of them and their properties may develop, which I'm sure Nereida will be delighted with."

"And that'll keep me safe? Those talents?"

She pursed her lips. "Safer."

"But?"

"Well, you'll never really be safe, will you?" She sighed. "I didn't realize how little you knew." She was quiet, then said, "I haven't been much of a mother, have I?"

I shrugged. "Maybe. I don't really know. But you're doing good as a friend." I offered a small smile, she squeezed my hand.

"Come on," she said, and set the teacup down. "You could use some cheering up." We spent the rest of the afternoon going through fabrics that had just been shipped from some exotic locale and giving instructions to dressmakers. It wasn't as though I didn't have enough clothing already, but there was something therapeutic and girly about being lost in the silks and trimmings.

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**A/N: I apologize, as always, for the lateness of this chapter... and how short it is. My life's been... crazy. Like, WOW crazy. Fortunately the craziness is settling down... sorta. Okay, so it's not... I'm doing NaNoWriMo, which means I'm writing another novel during the month of November, but I'll try to update this one as well. And I'm headed off to school in January, which'll probably cramp my style a bit. Although maybe writing will serve as a nice comfort pasttime during those cold Idaho evenings? We shall see... Anyway, thanks for sticking with me on this:)**

**InChrist-Billios: Thanks! And I totally like that idea, I think I'm going to use it. Be patient with Eran. He's about to get a lot more stage time. A LOT more.**

**sueariel: Yay! A new reader! And I'm glad you like the modern-day setting... it seemed more interesting. **

**Gnomie022: Oh the suspense, indeed! And your answer is... neither. And both. Mwahaha. Just, uh, stay tuned. If it comes out on paper/screen the way it's going in my head, it'll be good, lol.**

**teenchic2004: I'll let you in on a little secret... I didn't expect her to be able to take off the necklace, either. Aren't characters great? They always surprise you... Hope your creativity shifts back into gear soon!**

**Allyp: collapses into laughter at the icky-ickness You rock. You just.. rock. :D**

**Backroads: Yeah, I agree... the slowing down chapter needed to happen... just in time for it all to speed up again in the one after this, if all goes according to plan, lol...**

**sheslike-poisonivy: Lol, thanks.**

**jinxywinxy: Thanks much! Hopefully I haven't scared you off with this long update time... :p**

**Desertkitt: Thank you!**

**Another A/N: I have, like, a bunch of new readers/people I didn't know had been reading... welcome to all of you and thanks:) And, actually, I'll extend that to the regulars as well. You're awesome.**


	20. Binding

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

"Chin up," Madame Espalier called. "There. Kneel. And then he'll talk for a bit, blah blah blah, and put the crown on your head, then you'll rise --- keep your spine straight, there! --- and step up one, very good, now curtsy. Deeper than that, you're making a promise to your people… lovely." I stood. "Now you walk back down the aisle… and we won't go through all that, it should be fairly obvious."

I removed the heavy crown we had been practicing with and set it on the throne. Eran stood at the bottom of the dais I was on and offered a hand as I came down. As soon as his hand touched mine, a storm erupted in my stomach. I sat down on the steps.

"Are you all right?"

I took a deep breath. "I don't know. This is all… big. Really… big."

"You're going to be fine."

I nodded and bit my bottom lip.

Aretta, the lady-in-waiting who had attended me my first few days in Merlana, came into the room, followed by a maid holding a shell to her ear and talking a mile a minute.

"I know," she was saying. "Yes, I… no, she… No, but… Erica! No, stop. Listen, I'll talk to you later, the princess just finished rehearsing. Fine. Bye."

She slipped the shell in her sash and made a face at me. Aretta raised her eyebrows in a sympathetic way.

"I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news," she said, "but I'm to fetch you for a dancing lesson."

Every bone in my body screamed in protest. I ignored them and sighed.

"All right. I'll be there in a minute. The ballroom?"

"Yes."

I sighed; Eran stood and helped me up.

"Oh," Aretta said as I was turning to go. "A word of warning. He's got a big crown. You're meant to learn to be graceful despite the weight."

"Great," I said. "Just… great."

The maid rolled her eyes and shook her head; I couldn't have said it better.

At last, the big day rolled around. Before I opened my eyes that morning, I could feel the responsibility holding me down like lead. Grethel pulled the covers off of me; I curled into a ball at the sudden draft.

"It's like watching a slug," she said.

"What?" I opened my eyes and gazed blearily at her.

"Or an anemone. You touch them and they shrink. You're the same when I take your blankets off."

"Give them back." I pulled a pillow over my head, which she took as well.

"Come on, get up. It's a big day."

Which was exactly the problem. After a bit more cajoling and a few threats, I was up and in my first gown. I would require several, in between all the ceremonies and the ball in the evening. For being my birthday, it was very much not about me. Ah, the life of a princess.

Breakfast was, to say it simply, odd. Only the family was here. Pearl was stressed. Ryne was stressed. Lisette was stressed. They were all trying very, very hard to not act like it. Mabelle, on the other hand, openly panicked.

"You're going to be just fine, dear, just fine," she babbled, putting a bowl of salad directly on my plate and sticking the tongs in the juice pitcher. "Just fine, and you don't need to worry because there's nothing to worry about, of course not."

"Mabelle," Ryne said.

"Don't tell me to stop fussing; I'm not fussing, you're just nervous about today, though there's no reason to be, of course." She snatched a plate of muffins from the hands of a nearby maid and slammed it down, narrowly missing the butter, and then bustled off.

"Oh my," Pearl said. She watched the door Mabelle had just left through for a moment, then blinked, shook her head slightly, and turned to me. "She's right, of course. There's nothing to be nervous about. You'll be fine."

"Of course you will." Lisette squeezed my arm.

The tension in the air was making me sick. I pushed the food around on my plate and finally stood up.

"It's almost eight, I'd better get going."

"Of course. Is Eran here?"

"He said he'd be waiting outside. I'll see you all in a while."

They nodded, murmured various words of reassurance. He was outside the door, humming something and twirling a deep pink primrose.

"Here," he said when he saw me, and handed me the flower. I took it, and, at his nod, listened.

It's a beautiful day, it sang in a woman's voice. _This really is all turning out for the best. What a lovely princess._

"It's been repeating that over and over," he said. "Someone must have been talking by it earlier and it liked what she was saying. I thought it might give you encouragement."

"Thank you."

He took my arm and led me from the palace, out the wall through a side door, into the forest, and then down a rambling path. It ended in a small clearing on a shelf that then dropped down to a very secluded beach, overhung with vividly green trees. Everything seemed more alive here: it was the home of the Master Shephard, Orion.

I had never been here before, and had only seen him once while Ryne was holding court. He didn't venture much from his cottage and the surrounding forest, preferring to spend time in meditation, talking with the sea, and instructing the other shephards. I was here to meet with him prior to my coronation and receive his blessing.

Eran squeezed my hand and glanced at the door. Orion, opened it. He was an old man with a long gray beard, every inch the stereotyped old wizard. His face was young, though, despite its lines, and his eyes burned with the same power Marea had. He nodded to us and shut the door behind him.

"Come," he said. "Let us sit under the trees, I think you will be most comfortable there."

We sat on a patch of grass. I could hear the leaves whispering above us. _The princess. The princess._ Orion smiled, and I felt my shoulders relax.

"How are you doing?" he asked. I took a deep breath. The air here was thinner and had a sort of liquid feel to it, like summer mornings sometimes had had in Maine.

"I'm all right," I said. "Just taking things one step at a time."

"That's a good way," he said.

We sat in silence a few moments. I looked over at Orion. Time seemed to be slipping away into some realm where it didn't matter if I spent all day here or if I made it to the coronation. I shook my head, trying to regain some sense of panic --- it was the only thing to ensure that I would be there, let alone be there on time.

"What am I here for, exactly?"

"I don't know yet," he said.

This was about as cryptic an answer as I had expected from someone so clearly mystical. I couldn't help but smile.

"I'm here to get your blessing," I prodded. This was a fairly vague explanation, and everyone had brushed off my requests for more information.

"Yes, yes, of course," he said, waving a hand. "You have that." He looked into my eyes for a while, and said slowly, "I've got to see what else. What will protect you."

He didn't speak inside my head as I had expected him to do. Instead, I felt a series of memories flip through my head. Not actual images, but instead feelings, remembered emotions. He seemed to be cataloguing my heart. I took deep breaths and waited. At last, he leaned back on his hands, his fingers sinking into the emerald moss.

"I'm going to bind you," he said with a slight nod. He glanced at Eran, and I followed the look. Eran looked mildly surprised, but then nodded.

"Of course," he said.

"What's binding?"

"I'm going to attach you to another soul," he said. "The link will hold as long as you let it, and no one else but the two of you can break it."

I looked at Eran again. He met my eyes and nodded.

"Okay," I said. "To what purpose?"

"It will keep you safe," Orion said. "If you are attached to him, you will have an ally. A guard of sorts. He will know when you are in pain. He will be able to find you no matter where you are. And he will be able to give you some of his energy to hold you to life should you find yourself lingering too close to the line that separates the dead from the living."

"And you will have the same for me," Eran said quickly. "It could be a burden as well as a blessing."

I met his eyes. The sea-green held no judgment or expectation.

You don't have to, came the voice in my head.

You're my friend, I said. _Of course I will. If you don't mind._

Not at all.

"It's decided, then," said Orion, once we had turned to him again. "You will be able to break this bond later, if you so choose… but so long as both of you hold on, or desire to hold on, the link will stay. This is powerful magic."

He had us hold hands, placed his own atop ours, and chanted words that made no sense to me but which I could almost understand anyway. It was a spell of connection, friendship, faith, and trust. Over and over I felt he was speaking of trust; over and over I felt more peaceful.

"There," he said, removing his hand. "Let go."

We tried, but our skin seemed stuck together. I was starting to get worried, but Eran looked amused. Eran _felt_ amused; there was a little bubbling in the bottom of my stomach, running under my own emotions. Orion laughed and hit our hands with his fist, none too gently.

"This spell sticks sometimes," he said in explanation. Our hands broke apart. My skin tingled.

Orion stood. Eran followed and offered a hand to help me up, which, given the skirt I was in, was much appreciated.

We walked back to the palace together, silent but aware of all the sounds around us. Animals chattered about goings-on at the palace, trees wished me luck, flowers giggled and their words suggested that every woman on the island was busy doing her hair. Everything I felt had an undercurrent of something else, something I couldn't quite distinguish and could ignore if I chose, much as I could ignore all the voices around me. I didn't, though. I tried to listen, tried to distinguish what I could. After a while I had isolated the emotions, and found that they were mostly just listening. He had apparently been able to unwind his own feelings from mine more quickly.

"This is bizarre," I said. He nodded.

"I think we'll get used to it."

"Yeah."

We had arrived at the gate and our last moment of solitude. I took a deep breath.

"You'll be fine," he said. I offered a smile, which he obviously saw --- or felt --- right through. He pulled me into a hug and I closed my eyes and buried my head in his shoulder. He was so calm, all the way through, and some of it filtered through into me.

"Thank you," I said. He nodded and took my hands. The tingling came back, and with it, a comforting warmth.

"I'll see you later," he said. "Lots of deep breaths. Quiet your mind; I know you know how."

All was chaos when I returned. I had three ladies-in-waiting to help me prepare for the coronation. Grethel was one of them; I clung to her. Two of the girls flitted around, chattering in cultured voices, lacing up my elaborate blue-green gown, which was covered in ribbons that had to be cinched and tied and skirts that had to be looped just so. Grethel meanwhile worked around them, doing my hair. It was put in a complex mass of curls and ribbons that tumbled down my back and weirdly evoked the sea. It was too formal, much like the dress. But it would only stay this way for the coronation. There were other costumes for later.

"Almost time," a lady said, putting her head into the room.

"Almost done." Grethel gave my hair a final twist and then put her hands on my shoulders. She leaned down and whispered a few words of reassurance. I got the gist of them, but couldn't actually tell what she said in between the sounds of perfume being sprayed, more talking, the clatter of the hairbrush being knocked off the vanity by one of the girls, and my own rising sense of panic.

Quiet your mind, Eran had said. I didn't even bother to try.

Pearl and Lisette were waiting in the small area off the throne room where I was to wait before my entrance. Pearl flew at me and hugged me; Lisette waited until I had shot her a look that was probably as desperate and terrified as myself.

"We've got a few minutes," she said. "Have a seat. Try and relax. This isn't a big deal."

I raised an eyebrow and she made amends.

"It is a big deal," she said, "but not _that_ big a deal."

I nodded and squeezed my eyes shut. Eran's calmness was still in the pit of my stomach. I brought it up and tried to let it fill me. It sort of worked.

Someone came to the door and spoke quietly with Pearl for a moment. She nodded.

"It's almost time. I have to go take my place." She kissed me on the cheek and left. Lisette had me stand and started smoothing my skirt, and then we went to stand outside the doors of the throne room. The entrance hall was empty by now, save for a few servants and guards. Erica had apparently snuck up from the kitchens and had been talking to one of the guards; she offered a smile.

There was music from inside the throne room, then some talking, and then a fanfare. I held my head high as the doors were swung open. A spectacle of dazzling colors greeted my eyes, clothes and drapes, banners hanging from the ceiling, and before me, a long red carpet. Stately music started playing. Lisette touched my arm, and I stepped forward.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry about the long delay! I did successfully complete NaNoWriMo 2007 and have given birth to a new novel. It's rather ugly and messy, like most newborns, but I'm proud of it anyway. I also forgot to factor in Post-Novel Letdown, which has been what kept this particular story from being updated. However, the muse has returned. Huzzah!**

**Okay, question for everyone: do you want to see the coronation ceremony, or do you want me to skip to the action? Your choice. Oh, and happy 2008!**

**teenchic2004: Glad you like Marina. I do too. Most days, anyway. :p**

**InChrist-Billios: I know... doesn't Pearl ROCK? And kidnapping? Y'know, it wasn't in the plans, but... hm...**

**Gnomie022: Lol, sorry... I'm working on the updating-within-a-reasonable-space-of-time thing... Also the chapters-of-a-reasonable-length thing... hopefully both will improve soon. Just keep prodding me. ;)**

**Bingo7: Yeah, Eran's going to... well, without saying too much, Eran's going to get really interesting really fast. Within the next... oh, two chapters, I'd say.**

**Backroads: You're going to want to do some throttling pretty soon here, lol... Thanks for reviewing!**

**jinxywinxy: Wow, thank you:D **

**pinkychanmanchiu: Never fear --- I haven't stopped writing yet!**


	21. Coronation

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN**

The ceremony flew by. I remembered little by the end of it, other than the moment when Ryne placed the crown on my head, when Pearl kissed my forehead, and when I curtsied. Madame Espalier had to have been proud; my obeisance was all she could wish. Many words were said, which were in my head one moment and gone the next. I spoke when I should have, the music was beautiful, there were thousands of eyes staring at me, and deep down I could feel Eran's encouragement. He was standing in a long line of shephards dressed in sand-colored tunics, though I didn't dare glance his way more than a few times.

Mensonge was sitting near the front of the room in one of the hundreds of benches that had been put up for the occasion. I watched him and Rochelle, who sat over with other foreign rulers and ambassadors, but they both stayed in character. He smiled at me, and she looked refined and attentive, pleasant and never reacting.

After the coronation I was whisked away, my gown and hair were changed, and I went out onto a balcony to address the people. Half the country, it seemed, had crammed into the courtyard, and my speech was met with cheers and applause. After that, I had to change again and meet with all the foreign dignitaries, give them another speech that assured them of my gratitude for their support and my future plans of international harmony. By the time I was back in my room, being fitted up into another dress for the ball, I was exhausted.

"Just lean your head back," Grethel said, slipping a pillow behind my neck. "I'll do the top of your hair first. See if you can't get a little nap."

I grasped her hand and gave it a squeeze. "Thank you."

Sleep was a little out of my abilities, but I did manage to rest. By the time the ball was about to begin the prospect of facing it was not quite so daunting.

"All right, run along now," Grethel said, offering to help me out of the chair. "I still have to get myself beautiful."

"Oh, you've spent all your time on me and ---" I said, but she waved a hand.

"It's your big day. And you're the princess, after all. I won't need more than a few minutes, anyway, _my_ natural beauty just shines through."

I laughed and hugged her. "You think Sir Kenthen will agree?" She swatted my arm.

"I'm sure he will. Go on, they'll have started but they can't go too long without you."

I was accompanied downstairs by the two other ladies who had been doing my dresses all day, Aria and Selena. They gave my gown a last preening before I entered the ballroom --- it was silver, with a tight corset and full skirt and sleeves --- and straightened my crown. It was silver as well, and more of a tiara than anything else, though still heavy.

The ballroom was dizzying at first, full of candlelight and intoxicating perfumes. The guests were all in rich colors, girls in whites and pastels, young women in silvers and golds, and older women in rich jewel tones. Lisette was waiting for my by the thrones; I made a beeline for her.

"Have a seat," she said. "Mensonge has been asking for you." She shot me a significant look. Between us, Pearl and I had told her everything. I nodded.

"It'll be fine," I said. "If I can handle the rest of the day I can handle him."

"You did beautifully," she said. I smiled my thanks; coming from her, it meant more than it had from everyone else.

Various courtiers and visitors came to offer their congratulations, compliment on how lovely the ceremony was, and to give their best wishes. I managed to be gracious but was relieved when Eran appeared at my elbow.

"Would you care to dance?" he asked. His mouth held the hint of a smile.

"Did you sense my boredom?" He inclined his head.

"Perhaps. I thought we might dance for a song, after which I would be obligated to offer you a drink, during which you would be obligated to sit down in a remote corner, stare into space, and not be required to make small talk."

"You do better than read my thoughts, you anticipate them," I said. "I accept. Gladly." I took his hand and stood. "Thanks."

"You did perfectly at the coronation," he said, once we were settled in a slow sort of waltz. I nodded.

"I hope so. Don't remember much of it."

"I imagine not. You felt focused."

"Yeah."

The steps of the dance required us to separate, weave through other couples, and then we joined again. He twirled me and then we went back to the first form.

"What did you do the rest of the day while I was tending to royal duties?" I asked.

"Watching you attend to royal duties," he said. I raised an eyebrow.

"Thrilling."

"No, you did well."

He was being altogether too flattering. I appreciated it.

"Really?"

"Now you're just fishing for compliments," he said. I laughed.

The song ended. He bowed, I curtsied, and then he fulfilled his obligation to offer refreshment. We wandered over to the punch bowl, and I sank into one of the chairs along the wall. The couples on the floor were beautiful. I watched the whirl of fabrics until Eran returned. He sat next to me.

"Are you nervous?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Not now."

"You've just begun with the real duties."

"I know," I said, "but the day's almost over. It's much less scary now that I know everything's official." I caught sight of golden hair flashing over a deep red gown. Her partner's hair was dark as hers was light. "And the guests will be departing soon."

He followed my gaze. I could feel him tense up a bit. He glanced at me.

"What happened between you and Lord Mensonge?" he asked quietly. My hand twitched.

What do you mean? It was a stupid question. Mensonge and I had scarcely seen one another since Pearl and my talk; I had always made sure to have an excuse of some royal business that could not be evaded, and when that failed, I played sick. 

Your attitude to him is much changed. He looked carefully forward at the dancers. I focused on my drink.

Yes.

I cannot say I am sorry to hear it. 

I barely stopped myself from looking over at him.

Did you know? I asked.

Know what?

I hesitated, and then carefully replayed the scene by the fountain for him. Mensonge and Rochelle's words could be clearly heard; the ground as I had seen it was a clear vision in both our minds. The memory faded. He said nothing for a moment, but his emotions had taken on a hard edge.

You are best that he and his mistress are away soon, he finally said. There was so much more he was feeling beyond that. I centered in; he was angry.

It's all right, I thought in the most soothing tone I could come up with, if indeed thoughts could be said to have a tone. _I don't love him. I never did. He had been working some sort of magic._

Quickly, I explained about the opals. Eran's jaw clenched. I had never seen him upset before. Well, no one who did not have access to his feelings would; aside from the jaw his bearing was as calm as ever.

He is a fool. A charlatan, a rake, and one not to be trusted, but above all a fool. 

I glanced at him. He was looking at me, but quickly averted his eyes. I frowned.

"Are you all right?"

A deep breath. "I'm fine. I just don't have respect for people who treat good things with nonchalance." Another breath, and the unsettled feeling in my stomach subsided. I shook my head.

"I wish I could relax like you can."

"It's useful, I'll grant you that."

There was a loaded pause, and then he laughed.

"Forgive me, I'm bringing down your evening." The tension dissipated, and I touched his shoulder lightly.

"Not at all. Would you mind if we went outside? It's warm in here."

He nodded, and we wandered to one of the balconies opening off the ballroom. A breeze was there to greet us as we stepped out into the night air. A few couples were already on the balcony, most absorbed in each other, although there was one that seemed to be just making their acquaintance; she looked awkward and he was striking manly poses. Eran took my hand and led me down a set of stairs I hadn't noticed before down into the gardens. It was deserted here, quiet and richly perfumed. The solitude, such as it was, was a peaceful contrast to the ballroom.

"Did you ever confront him?" Eran asked once we were well away from any prying ears. I shook my head.

"I couldn't think. Then I decided it was best he didn't know that I knew. It's better to have the upper hand."

He cast me a look that verged on admiration. I laughed.

"What?"

"You actually controlled your emotions."

"I _am_ capable of it."

"I confess, I doubted. Won't make that mistake again, of course."

He kept looking at me. I laughed again and turned away.

"Yes, you will. Anyway, he still doesn't know. I've been working on separating us more; apparently everyone read much further into our relationship than I did."

He felt surprised. "What did you expect from it?"

"I don't know," I said, watching my gown as the silver folds played with my steps. "Not marriage, at least not this early."

"You seemed serious," he said.

"I know. It's how they do things in America. It's customary to rush relationships. Physical affection isn't so much of a sign of anything as it is here."

We turned a corner and went into an even more secluded walk, this one full of roses. I stopped to smell a flower, its petals barely distinguishable as pink in the blue light of the moon.

"Do you think us backward?" Eran asked. I looked down for a moment, then shook my head.

"No. Not at all. I like it better here, where things… mean things."

He caught my eye; I quickly looked away. My stomach had flared, and it hadn't just been my emotions.

"We'd better go back to the party," he said after a moment. "They'll be missing you."

I nodded, and we turned around and left the way we had come.

* * *

**A/N: Hah! Check it out... an update within a reasonable space of time! I've been squeezing this writing in between classes... not sure how well it worked... but we'll find out, I guess. As to the coronation, I just kinda skimmed... let me know if it was okay or not.**

**InChrist-Billios: Oh, yes, kidnapping is a bad plan. I'm still considering it. We'll see if it can't be worked in. But don't worry, I'm a fan of poetic justice. And Orion makes me happy.**

**Bingo7: Y'know, I hadn't thought about it, but that totally _was_ marriage-y. And I'm so glad their relationship is coming across! I'd been worried about it, but looks like things are reading in the right direction.**

**Allyp: I totally didn't know that about pagan/wiccan marriage ceremonies, but that just goes to show that either I'm a genius or I just know cool when I see it, lol. And you're spot on with Orion's comments. ("Spot on" is another of those superior mobile vs. cell phrases.) And a big crown meant only a big crown. Had I meant anything else I would have used neckerchiefs instead. In other news, panic not, just look forward to Spamalot! I made a rhyme! You can duct tape my mouth... fingers... shut now, if you want.**

**Audra Laudargue: Eran and Mensonge... yeah, stuff's gonna happen. Well, as you can see, that process has begun... And I LOVE the idea of Eran and Marina going back to Maine. There was a bit where they [CENSORED but I think I'm going to switch it so they [CENSORED CENSORED CENSORED instead. **

**jinxywinxy: Ah, yes, things can go wrong. Things must always go wrong. Mwahaha. There'll be a lot more about the soul-binding, promise.**

**teenchic2004: I updated sooner:D And yeah, the Marina/Eran thing is totally happening. **

**Backroads: Marina does feel a lot... and that's also going to come into play here soon.**

**Note to everyone: You're all getting my characters so well it's freaky. I love it!**


	22. Confrontation

CHAPTER NINETEEN

I was assailed by several ladies of the court the moment I entered the ballroom. They talked and chattered over me, and then I was whisked into a dance with Prince Somebody of the Noble Realm of Somewhere. Three more dances, a long visit with the talkative dowager Fairie Queen of the British Isles, more dancing, meeting a second cousin, a few more dances, and then I could avoid Mensonge no longer. He sidled up to me as soon as I had gotten back to my chair, hoping for a break, and kissed my hand.

"It's good to see you, my dear," he said. I forced as smile.

"Are you enjoying the evening?"

He nodded. "More so, now that I am at your side. I seem to have scarcely seen you of late."

"Yes," I said. "Well, I apologize for that, but preparations for today have been keeping me rather busy."

"Come, I want to show you something." He pulled on my hand, I drew it back.

"I'd really like to just sit here for a while," I said. "I'm exhausted, but the night is still young. I have a great many more social obligations to fulfill before it is over and should like to get whatever rest I can."

"Young? It is nearing midnight."

"And this will go until dawn," I said.

"All the more reason for you to come with me." His voice had taken on an urgent color; I frowned.

"Why? What's the matter?"

A smooth smile replaced the former expression. "Nothing, my dear, I let my feelings get the better of me. It is only that I have been wishing to be in your presence for so long and perhaps find a moment where we could be alone, and the thought of waiting one day longer is almost too much to bear."

Melodramatic much? I sighed.

"Look," I said. "You cannot be at a loss ---" I stopped abruptly. This was not a conversation for a crowded ballroom, but nor did I want to be alone with him. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"No," he said. "Now. Something is not right with us. I cannot rest until I find out what."

I hesitated, then stood, ignored the hand he offered. "Fine," I said. "But I cannot be away long."

"May I have until midnight?"

I glanced at the gold clock high up on a far wall. The hands read a quarter to. I nodded.

"Midnight."

"Thank you."

We walked out onto the same balcony Eran and I had gone to earlier, and Mensonge led me down the same set of stairs. I thought I saw Eran from the corner of my eye as we descended into the dark gardens below, but it might only have been my imagination. We walked in silence for some time, broken only by the occasional pointless observation about the ball, and then Mensonge turned off the main walkway onto a path guarded by high hedges. Only the moon lit our way, but even her rays could not quite penetrate down far enough for me to make out his face clearly.

"Let's go somewhere else," I said. "It's too dark here."

"Not afraid of the dark, are you?"

I paused to make sure I hadn't been making up the taunt in his voice, then said sharply, "I prefer to see where I am going."

"I'm with you."

"I don't trust you." The words slipped out before I could think about them, and I bit my lip. He stopped and spun around. I almost ran into him. Our faces were just inches apart.

"What was that?" he asked. I faltered, but something inside would not gloss it over. I held my ground.

"I do not trust you," I said in a slow, clear voice. "I will not give my reasons at present for you have done nothing to deserve them. Now, either we go back together, or I go back alone. Your choice."

There was a long pause. I could hear him breathing heavily.

"Fine. Lead the way."

I stopped at the first clearing we came to. The shrubbery was low here and interspersed with flowerbeds.

"Is this light enough for you?" Mensonge asked. I glanced towards the balcony we had come from. It was further than I would have liked but would do. I nodded.

"Yes." I sat down on a bench and waited for him to do likewise. "Now, what do you have to say to me that is so important?"

"I thought we came out here because you had something to say to me," he said.

"True enough. Fine, then, I'll go first." My voice threatened to falter but I pushed through. "You can be at no loss as to my intentions in distancing you and myself recently."

"I thought you'd been busy," he said, with the trace of a sneer. The behavior was so unlike him; it made me uneasy. Annoyance soon rushed in to replace the nervousness. I twisted my body to face him.

"Don't act as though I'm a fool," I said. "I have been before but will not be taken for one now. It has recently come to my attention that others saw more in our relationship than I did. I was not comfortable with this, for I have a very difficult time seeing you and I as husband and wife. I hoped that by hinting in such ways as are considered appropriate for those of nobility I might get the message across to you. You obviously didn't take the hint."

What a speech. Pride was added to the blend of fear and irritation. I raised my eyebrows in a rather imperial gesture and waited for his reply.

"Indeed not," he said after a moment. "I wanted to bring you out here to propose to you." He stared at me, as though waiting for this to have some swoon-inducing properties.

"Than I apologize for any pain I might be causing you at this present time, although I have reason to think such tender emotions will not last long if indeed they appear at all."

"You think me so cold?"

"I know you to be so."

"How?"

"That is not your concern. Not at this moment. I have many questions of you but doubt they will be answered honestly; thus I feel no obligation toward answering your own inquiries."

I was starting to talk like a character from a Jane Austen novel. I took a deep breath.

"Look. I'm not interested in marrying you. I'm dumping you. The end."

"Dumping?"

"Whatever you want to call it."

He stared at me. "Is this about that sea shephard who's always following you around?"

"Eran?"

"Yes."

"No," I said. "Though it would be easier if it were. This is about you. I've said everything I want to say. Please excuse me."

I stood; he took my arm and jerked me back down. I wrenched it away.

"Don't touch me."

He stood. He towered over me; I drew myself up to my fullest high-heeled height.

"What do you think you're doing?" I asked. Fear flared in my stomach; he was blocking my way out. We were almost out of earshot of the balcony and were far too secluded. Rochelle was probably close by; I'd been an idiot to come out here alone.

"You're staying right here."

"I am not." I tried to dodge him to no avail; finally, I stomped as hard as I could on his foot. He was taken aback, but not for long enough. In seconds I was in his arms, this time not a clingy caress but a crushing grip. I screamed; a hand clamped over my mouth. I bit him, but he only squeezed me tighter. My kicking and thrashing did nothing. He dragged us back into the dark of the shrubbery.

A shout broke through the chaos in my head.

Where are you?

The gardens, I thought back, willing my voice to come through despite my panic. _Right inside the hedge walks. It's Mensonge. Hurry. Get Ryne._

No answer but a sense that help was coming. I held still, and after a moment, Mensonge's grip slackened. I spun around in his arms. In reflex he tightened them again, but now at least he couldn't get so easily at my mouth.

"What are you _doing?_" I said.

"This was going to be a lot easier than you're making it." I elbowed him; he grunted but made no other reply.

"What was easier?"

"You'll find out," he said. "It's not midnight yet."

Marina. It was Ryne. 

I'm here, I thought. _Where are you? _

Courtyard just beyond the central walkway.

Keep going. We're right inside the tall bushes.

There was a moment of nothing, and then a figure dove from the sky and landed on top of us. The three of us tumbled to the ground. I broke from Mensonge's grip and scrambled to my feet just as Ryne rose and came down again for another attack. It was like watching the shadow of a bird of prey; he rose and fell until he was certain he had the advantage, and then ordered me to stand back. Cords leapt from his hands and he tied Mensonge's hands and feet together, leaving him lying on the ground.

I pressed my back against the wall just outside the hedges. My knees were shaking.

"Are you all right?" Ryne asked, coming back to me. Once in the moonlight I could see on his face an expression of deep concern. "Did he hurt you?"

"No," I said. He took a deep breath and pulled me to him. I sank into the warm strength, but even it was not enough to soothe the way my heart was pounding. He told me to sit down on a bench and then went back to make sure Mensonge was under control. A few moments later Eran arrived, followed closely by Pearl, Lisette, and Orion. The latter knelt down in front of me, looking odd in his formal court clothing, and peered into my eyes.

"She's all right," he said. "A little shaken, that's all."

Lisette hugged me, and Pearl found a place on the bench and started fussing with my hair and gown, asking if I was really all right. It was first reassuring, and then suffocating.

"I'm fine," I said finally, shaking them off. "Really. He didn't do anything to me."

Eran shushed me sharply. He listened for a moment, and then I felt something in his emotions, the sort of fear you get when you miss a step and the bottom of your stomach falls out. His eyes were wide.

"We need to get out of here, now," he said. He spoke a few words in a tongue I didn't know, and Orion nodded and pulled Pearl and I none too gently to our feet. He shoved us toward the path that would lead back to the palace.

"Go," he said. "The king and I will take care of the prisoner."

"What's going on?" Pearl asked. Lisette was already hurrying me away. I twisted and looked behind to hear the answer.

"Rochelle," Orion said. "She's close. It's nearing the midnight minute. The princess needs to be in the palace, now."

Lisette and I were almost out of earshot by the last word. We had reached a fountain set into the main path. Lisette dragged me around it and I almost fell over; I could focus on nothing more than running on the cobblestones without twisting an ankle.

"Hurry," she hissed. I tried to kick off a shoe but it refused to budge. We were only twenty feet from the balcony, and then, we stopped.

I couldn't move. Every fiber in my body was frozen. I pushed and pulled and tried to break whatever invisible casing was on us, but to no avail. Our forms were lifted into the air and dragged back the way we had come. I tried to scream but nothing came out.

"You were very close," said a silky voice. We stopped, back near the hedges again. We were facing towards the path we'd been pulled from and I couldn't tell if anyone else was all right. My eyes wouldn't move. "But it would have taken skill and speed far beyond your own to escape this late in the game." She clicked her tongue. "Didn't you learn, princess, the magic of midnight? All the really great spells are cast then. It's not wise to be away from all your protectors so late."

The spell broke; Lisette and I tumbled to the ground. I spun around. Mensonge had been untied, and Ryne, Orion, Pearl, and Eran were all standing behind Rochelle, hands bound. Without warning, the cords on their wrists snapped apart and fell to the ground.

"Oh, nicely done," said Rochelle, sounding amused. She looked at Lisette. There was a flash of motion from Ryne and a blue beam of light shot at her. She held up a hand and the magic dissipated. "Parlor tricks, but they can be useful sometimes, can they not?" She glanced back. "Mensonge, if any of them start causing trouble, kill them." He nodded.

"Do you really think you have any power here?" Lisette said. "You are outnumbered."

"True," said Rochelle. "But preparation is on my side."

She snapped a finger and Mensonge picked up a stone bowl that had been hidden behind a bush. He brought it to Rochelle; inside was a silver knife. Lisette's breath caught.

"What is it?" I asked. Rochelle raised here eyebrows, tossed her hair, and laughed.

"What is it? What _is_ it? Oh, my dear, your education is sorely lacking. Perhaps it's best that you won't be princess after tonight; what sort of trouble would you get your people into? This, child, is a bowl of rough-hewn marble from the mountains of Desviado, and this ---" she picked up the knife and twirled it slowly between her long fingers "--- is of the finest silver, made from the same material as the crown of my great-great-grandfather, Eudward, known for his, ah, _creativity_ in magic and greatness in battle. They're essential parts of all the great life spells. The term 'life spells,' for future reference, not that you have much of a future, is a bit misleading. They mostly end in death. I get your life."

I stepped back. "What are you talking about?"

"Your life, dear," she said. "Surely you're not so dense that you misunderstand me. You see, you have certain powers, abilities, and rights, and I want them. So I'm going to kill you. It's not complicated."

"Stop," Ryne said. "Name your price. Anything."

"Ransom? Ryne, darling, I wouldn't go through all the trouble of setting up a life spell if I could have gotten what I wanted simply through the threat of one. But no. I've stewed the brews, said the spells at midnight for months, bathed in blood, all of it. It's far too late to back out now."

"No," Lisette said. Her voice cracked. I glanced at her; she was terrified. I wasn't afraid, though I knew I should be; I felt nothing.

As one, Ryne, Orion, and Pearl sent spells toward Rochelle. She turned and sent them back, brought up shields, and after a moment filled with multicolored lights and haze, it all faded out.

"You're all very good," she said, "but I've been practicing. Now, your cooperation would be appreciated. Then again, I don't expect you'll give it. Mensonge, take care of them."

"Of course, my lady," he said. He turned toward them, but there was further scuffle. Rochelle started muttering odd phrases and ignored the chaos behind us, but I watched, scarcely daring to breathe. The four of them worked as a good team; it was not long before Mensonge was once again bound.

"My lady," he said. Rochelle didn't react. He twisted. "Rochelle!"

She turned slowly, surveyed him, and raised an eyebrow. "I thought you said you were good at dueling."

"My lady!"

"Do try not to die. It would be most inconvenient right now."

She turned back to her bowl and began muttering again, ignoring all his cries for help. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost. Not quite. Lisette's fingers were digging into my arm; behind Rochelle, Pearl and Ryne were looking at one another, Orion was looking calmly at the ground, and Eran was looking at me. I had no doubt they were talking amongst themselves, trying to come up with a plan. I couldn't tap into the conversation, but of course they would try to keep it as far from Rochelle as possible.

Rochelle looked up. "Almost done," she said. "Just your part, darling. Hold out your arm."

And the air behind her exploded in a shower of sparks. She screamed, dropped the bowl --- but not the knife --- and turned. She couldn't fight against it; she threw up a shield and grabbed my arm. There was a flash of reflected light, and she brought the knife down.

* * *

**A/N: Dun-dun-DUUUUUN!**

**And THAT, ladies and... um, duchesses and she-knights and queens and whatever all you prefer, 'cause I think all my lovely readers are female, was one of the Fastest Updates In The History of the World, about which I am Very Proud. And ****I'm not sure how well the whole Mensonge/Marina thing worked... comments/questions/critiques all very welcome.**

**InChrist-Billios: Glad it's working, and glad the coronation worked! Will continue to write in between classes... And yup, Eran's protective. About which I say, and I quote, "Aw!" **

**teenchic2004: Their relationship is totally blossoming. Y'know, as long as she doesn't die (see above). Mwahah.**

**Audra Laudargue: Yes! Emotion! Don't worry, Eran's going to show a LOT more emotion coming up here soon. Well, sorta. It's complicated. But yeah, you'll see. ;)**

**Bingo7: Oh, they've already started to feel a bit of attraction... but yes, when WILL it really start? I'm afraid I don't actually know the answer to that, lol. And Spongeman and Rochelle are cousins.**

**Gnomie022: Lol, yeah, pretty much.**

**Allyp: Not sure when you'll get this... but anyway, my e-mail's not working. I think it might be a firewall thing so hopefully it'll be cleared up, but if you don't hear from my soon... that's why. Yup-yup.**


	23. Recovery

CHAPTER TWENTY

I screamed and pulled away. It was too late; the knife was too close. I watched as time slowed down. The glinting metal came down toward my flesh, closer, closer, and then something hard hit my side and I was shoved out of the way. I tripped on my skirt and fell. My head hit the ground and my vision went black and then was full of stars laid over the night. A screaming noise coming from somewhere. It was inhuman and far off but permeated through everything. It took a moment until I realized it was Marea; she was crying out at something in a way I had never heard. Lightning clapped above us and filled the air with a second of white light. I tried to get to my feet, tried to run, but my feet were tangled in my skirt and I couldn't get up.

Lisette clutched my arm. I looked to where she was staring, wide-eyed, sparks and tongues of flame reflected in her eyes. Rochelle was still standing, but her face was twisted into an expression of horror and pain; her hand seemed to be stuck to the handle of the knife, which had been plunged deeply into someone's arm. It wasn't mine. I was here. The thoughts took forever to process, and my eyes took even longer to drag them to the face of the person attached to the arm. He was on his knees, head bowed forward. Eran.

I wrenched my arm from Lisette's grasp, and ran forward. Rochelle didn't seem to even notice me; I grabbed the knife and pulled, and a scream tore itself from my throat. The moment the knife was again in the air, she crumpled to the ground. All the lights went out instantly and there was a moment of ringing silence and stillness. And then, as one, everyone began to move. I didn't know what there were doing; my eyes were fixed on Eran's face. His gaze was unfocused and jaw was slack. He didn't seem to notice I was there.

There was a loud crashing, and a dozen or more men came charging into the clearing, some with swords, others with long knives, several carrying torches and glowing orbs, others with long silver chains. One of them called to Ryne, who ordered them to bind Rochelle and Mensonge. While some of the men were tying them up with the chains, Ryne turned to the knight who seemed to be in charge.

"What happened?" he asked tightly.

"There was a barrier, Majesty," said the man. "We tried all the usual methods but couldn't get through. Then there was this screaming and lights and it broke."

"I see," said Ryne. "I see." His eyes roved over the assembled company and met mine. He saw Eran and something in his jaw twitched. "Get everyone up to the castle immediately."

"Wait," said Orion. He had been standing to the side. Now he moved forward and came to where Eran and I were kneeling. I looked up at him; he was the master shephard, surely he would be able to fix this. He met my eyes for the briefest of moments, then turned to Eran. He looked at him for a long time, and then his shoulders fell and he drew back.

"Take him," he said quietly. I sat there, numb, while one of the knights lifted Eran into his arms. He didn't resist or give any reaction whatsoever. They left the garden, walking quickly. Ryne lifted me to my feet.

"Marina," he said. I blinked. "Marina. Please. Try to listen. Lisette will take you up to your chambers. Pearl and I are going to go address the people and then make sure that Rochelle and Mensonge are being held."

"What happened?" I asked. The sound of my voice startled me. Ryne took a deep breath.

"I don't know. I've never heard of a substitute in a life spell. I don't know what will happen. But I promise you, we will do everything in our power to help him. Now, go with Lisette, please."

I nodded slowly. Lisette's hand found its way around my shoulders. We walked through the gardens and into a side door. It led into one of the hall passageways that the servants used. Eran's face was burned into my eyes, that blank look, that total lifelessness. I kept walking.

We passed a few servants. They were laughing and talking, but fell silent as soon as they saw us. More walking. Up some stairs. And then Lisette pulled open a door. We were in the hallway outside my room, and then we were in my room. It was familiar, and because of that, very strange. I sank onto the bed.

"You should probably change out of those…" she said, and trailed off. There was a moment of silence, and then she sat on the bed next to me. I leaned against her and she pulled me close, comforting herself as much as me. We sat there for a long time like that. Thoughts were running through my head, but they were disjointed and forgotten as soon as they entered.

The door opened. Pearl dropped to her knees in front of us in a cloud of dirty blue silk and took my hands in hers. She looked deeply into my eyes, then closed her own and kissed my hands repeatedly. I watched without moving or making any response. She bit her lip.

"Ryne will be here in a moment," she said. She rubbed my hands gently. "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault," I said. My voice seemed loud inside my head. Every movement of my tongue against my teeth felt like a huge effort. "I shouldn't have… I was so stupid, I didn't think…"

"Shh," Lisette said, her head pressed against mine, the smell of her hair sweet but smoky. "It's all right. It's not your fault, it's not anyone's fault but theirs. It's going to be all right. We'll get things back to normal soon."

"We won't, actually," Pearl said. She looked from Lisette to me and back again. "Rochelle and Mensonge have already broken two of the chains. We can try to hold them but it's only a matter of time."

"She's not that much stronger than we thought?" Lisette said. Pearl nodded.

"She is. Our magic isn't going to hold her here beyond tomorrow. Nereida's already arranging transport and we've sent for Lady Grethel. She is skilled in disguise. And then…" She swallowed. "And then we're going to do just what we did eighteen years ago, except this time she's going to have to go it alone."

Lisette rose to her feet and was at the window in a moment. She pressed her forehead and a fist against the glass. Pearl watched in silence. At last Lisette turned around.

"I'll go arrange for papers," she said. "And a place. Where?"

"Same as last time," Pearl said. "Rochelle won't expect it, and Marina will still have the sea close by."

"What's going on?" I said. No one answered for a moment, and then Lisette took a deep breath.

"We're sending you away," she said, voice catching. "Back to Maine. Rochelle's going to escape soon. Our magic cannot hold a sorceress when our laws can have no claim on her. Various ancient treaties grant her a certain immunity. We could keep you here, but ---"

"We'll make a pretense," Pearl broke in. Lisette nodded.

"We'll make a pretense of your being here, but you will be far away where she won't think to look. It's unheard of for a crowned princess of Merlana to venture to the non-magical realms except in cases of international crisis, and it would be only natural for us to send you somewhere with spells for protection. In America you will be hidden by being mundane."

"You'll have a different name and a disguise," Pearl said. "We can arrange a job and place for you and then you'll have to simply blend in while we work this through. Ryne is doing what he can to give you extra security, but there is little more that we can offer now that you've come of age."

"I don't understand," I said. "I…"

"You've got to go back to Maine," Lisette said. "You'll just blend in until this is solved and we've taken care of Rochelle."

"I'd rather stay," I said. "Whatever powers I have must be of some use."

"We don't even know what they are, Marina," said Lisette. "We don't know what they are and you don't know how to use them. And Eran interfered in a very powerful spell. Rochelle is furious about it. He did something to her; she's weak. Still powerful and clever, but there's something different about her. We don't know what that is, either."

"We don't know much now other than that you need to get out of here and quickly," said Pearl.

I had listened to everything but only really caught one word. "Where's Eran? What happened to him?"

"We don't know," Pearl said.

I realized with a jolt why I felt so disjointed from everything. Whatever connection I had had to him, those feeling deep down that were his, had fallen silent. I strained and closed my eyes and tried to feel, but there was nothing.

"Are you all right?" Lisette said. I shook my head.

"I need to see him."

"There's not time," Pearl said, then stopped. She looked carefully at me, then said softly, "Very well. But be quick. He's in the physician's wing with Orion. I have to go with Ryne and address the people, give them some explanation of what's happened. Make sure you're back here by the time that's done."

I nodded, and fled without another word. My body was almost beyond walking, let alone anything faster, but somehow through desperation and dread I managed to run through the corridors and up stairs until I found the place I wanted. The door was closed; I charged in without knocking.

Orion was sitting at Eran's bedside. The royal physician was busy cleaning cuts and bandaging wounds. The gash on Eran's arm had started to clot somewhat, though it was still gaping and painful-looking. His eyes were closed, but his chest rose and fell in a deep rhythm.

"Marina," Orion said. He beckoned me closer, and then glanced significantly at the physician, who nodded and left. "Marina. Can you feel him?"

I shook my head. "Nothing."

He closed his eyes and exhaled. "I see. You must feel him. You must be able to feel him again."

"Rochelle must have broken the connection."

"Rochelle cannot have broken that connection. No magic will break a soul-binding. Only you or he can do that. I know you haven't, and if I know anything of him and his feelings for you, neither has he."

"Then what's wrong?"

"I don't know. But I can't feel him either. He is changed. I do not know how. You must find out."

"They're sending me away."

There was a long silence, and then he said, "I see." I shook my head.

"I have to do something. I can't leave him like this."

"It appears you will have to."

"I can't."

He looked at me for a long time, piercing eyes tracing every rise and hollow of my face.

"Then you will have to find a way to keep him with you," he said. I nodded. He would come with me. He would travel back to America, and there… I didn't know what we would do, but I would have plenty of time to figure it out.

"Okay," I said. "Thanks. I have to go back, but… will he be well enough to travel tonight?"

"The doctor and I will do what we can."

"Is he going to be all right?"

"I do not know. I hope. All we can do is hope."

This was not promising, but I nodded again, and then went back to my chambers. Pearl had not yet returned; Lisette was pulling clothes from my closet.

"The gowns won't help me blend in," I said. She pursed her lips.

"I know. Just give me a moment."

She set a simple summer gown of blue cotton aside and waved her hands. There was an illusion of threads unraveling and re-weaving, and a moment later the dress had reformed itself into a pair of jeans. She did the same with another gown, turning it into a t-shirt and hoodie.

"Put these on," she said. "You'll be able to buy more clothes when you get there."

I changed quickly. "Eran's coming with me," I said as I pulled the shirt over my head.

"What? Says who?"

"Me," I said. "And Orion."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"I think it's our only option," I said. "So does he."

"Eran?"

"Orion."

"Why's that?"

I explained about the soul-binding. She pursed her lips.

"I don't think it's a good idea. He's going to be more of a liability than an asset to you. He can't defend himself in his condition… whatever that condition is. We don't even know what's wrong with him."

"But Orion thinks I can help."

"I still don't think ---"

It was time to pull out the big guns. I cringed inwardly and said, "Look, I've gone through an awful lot this past year. First I find out I'm a princess or this magical island, then I had to get trained in about a million and seven subjects I have no natural aptitude for, am constantly under pressure to be perfect, have to guard myself constantly from evil minions, a couple of whom kinda put me in this situation to begin with, and now that I'm finally getting the hang of things I'm being sent away, on my own, with no clue what I'm doing and no one with me. I want a little tiny bit of say in all this. I want Eran to come with me."

I could see the parental guilt all over her face. I was feeling a little guilt of my own --- the poor woman had been through enough for one day without her sort-of daughter jumping down her throat --- but it got results.

"You're right," she said. "I'll bring it up with Pearl and Ryne."

"Thanks."

They arrived a few moments later, followed by Grethel.

"Nereida has arranged for transport," Pearl said. "We have papers, and we've arranged for an apartment in Portland fairly close to the water."

Grethel hugged me tightly. Her eyes were red.

"It's all going to be fine," she said. "Just fine. Oh, it better. Sit down, I'm going to disguise you."

I sat, and my three parents briefed me on what would happen when I arrived in the states. Their words were occasionally punctured with a sniff from Grethel; I tried to say something but she shushed me and claimed she wasn't crying and these disguise spells always made her nose itch.

"Your name will be Mary King," Ryne said. "We have a social security card, birth certificate, everything you'll need."

"We'll need to get papers for Eran as well," Lisette cut in. There was a flurry of debate about the question of his coming, but it was finally settled in my favor, and messages were sent to put things in order. He would pose as my husband, Aaron King, and we would both be young college graduates trying to get settled in the big world.

There was a soft tap at the door, and then Aretta came in, footsteps timid but head high.

"It's almost three," she said. "All the arrangements have been made. Nereida is waiting at the gates to escort the princess and the shephard to the sea. She advised me to tell you to hurry."

"Thank you," Ryne said. Aretta nodded and left, but not before shooting me a glance that was so full of concern I could almost touch it.

"Have a look," Grethel said. She nudged me toward the mirror. I almost jumped at what I saw. It was a girl, who looked vaguely like me. But she had layered dirty blonde hair, freckles, and brown eyes. I touched my face; the reflection in the mirror did the same.

"I'm impressed," I said. I hugged her, and she squeezed hard. We rocked back and forth for a moment before she let go. "Thanks," I added. I felt something prickling behind my eyes and turned away.

"Come on," Pearl said. "Let's go."

_

* * *

_

**A/N: Not my fastest, but not too bad, I hope. Okay, I've got an idea I want to pitch to ya'll. My NaNo novel '07 has been sitting on my computer for a couple of months now, and I want to start editing it for possible publication. (It's another fantasy, this time a retelling of Beauty and the Beast with several little twists --- an old war, elves, and sailors, to name a few.) My question is: would anyone be interested in helping? I need some objective eyes and you, my dear readers, have proved yourselves more than worthy. I'd send it in installments, rather like but through e-mail, and... yeah. If anyone's interested, let me know. If not, that's cool too... just throwing it out there to see what happens.**

**Audra Laudargue: Hahahaha... I'll admit, that was exactly the response I was going for... And yeah, I loved the Jane Austen bit, too. I've kinda got an Austen fetish... ****(BTW, just so everyone knows, PBS is doing Austen remakes on Masterpiece Theatre for the next few weeks. They already did Persuasion and Northanger Abbey... Mansfield Park is next... and then I don't know. But anyway, they're brilliant. Check local listings... it's 9 on Sundays around here.) And thanks again for the Maine idea.**

**InChrist-Billios: Lol, thanks. Review in six words... it's like degrees of seperation only not. And I fixed the breath/breathe thing --- thanks for pointing it out!**

**ShadowedBeneathMoonlight: Thanks! Hope to see you again.**

**Allyp: I'd rather be in a jewel tone too... but light colors are more Austenish, and, as you well know, it's a pet obsession of mine. ;) You're more cooler. And... yeah, I know EXACTLY what you mean about you-know-who, lol. And TAMPON! Why didn't I THINK of that?!**

**ChiefEditor: Ah! You changed your name! I like it. :) Never shy away from obsessive, that kind of passion is what runs the world. (Or scares non-equally-obsessive people away, but that's beside the point.) Glad you liked the last chapter! Hopefully this one followed it okay.**


	24. Maine

**CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE**

I remembered little of the journey. Short goodbyes were said at the gates. Only Nereida would come down to the shore with us; we would be less noticeable that way. They might have been tearful and emotional if they had been less hurried and full of last-minute information. Eran said nothing throughout. He would obey when someone gave an order, moved along with the rest of us, but his eyes never rose above knee level and his face was a blank slate. We were put in a small rowboat, with no provisions other than a folder holding all our necessary documents and some degree of American currency.

"Your journey will be timed so that you reach the shore shortly before dusk," Nereida said. "The boat will bring you through the least visible areas, and you should come up near the ruins at Cape Elizabeth. A car will be in the parking lot. It's registered for you. The key is in the folder, too, as is the key to your apartment and your address. It should be easy enough to find."

"Okay," I said. The boat started to rock gently. She gave it a gentle push.

"Good luck."

We sailed at an unnerving speed across the water. It almost made me ill. Everything was dark as far as the eye could see, only the clouds above dully glowing from the moon behind them. Eran said nothing, so I said nothing, and we waited. The world slowly lightened, and the clouds blew away so that we had a spectacular view of sunrise at sea. It was beautiful, dying the water shades of orange and pink. Then it faded up to daylight, and the hours slipped by.

"How are you feeling?" I asked Eran. He met my eyes for the briefest of seconds and then looked away.

"Fine."

"Are you hungry?"

"No."

And no more was said.

My hair rippled slightly. Nereida had put a spell on the boat that cut the air around us as the boat cut through the water. If I put my hand out I could feel the wind, strong and cold. A trail splashed in the sea behind us. I watched as the waves crashed and then rippled out into nothing.

Land began to form in front of us. It slowly grew bigger. Soon I could make out buildings and trees. I grew tense, waiting for someone to sweep out of nowhere and grab us, but nothing happened. We weren't noticed at all, and finally, the cliffs by Portland Headlight loomed up in front of us. The boat steered a gentle course along the coast and dug slightly into the ground not far from the park area and came to an unsteady halt. I grabbed hold of one of the rocks that jutted out in this part of the water. It scraped my flesh. There was a less-than-clear path to the shore, up and over the boulders divided by long drops back into the water. It wouldn't be a big deal once we got up. Not normally. But I was worried about Eran.

"Can you get up?" I asked.

"Yes."

He didn't move. I cleared my throat.

"You go ahead. I'll follow."

He climbed out fine. His body was working. Just his mind seemed gone. My stomach clenched in a feeling that was entirely my own.

I handed him the folder and scrambled atop the rocks myself. The boat slipped from my foot as soon as I began to pull away from it; before I was on top of the rock it was speeding away. I took a deep berath. Wind slapped across my face.

Make haste, it said. I blinked hard. 

"Come on," I said. "The parking lot's up here."

There was a good number of people there, kids picking up driftwood and snail shells along the small beach, families picnicking on the grass, and a couple of girls squealing about the spiders that lived in abundance on the rocks between the two. No one paid attention to us.

I found a maroon car from the late nineties, with scratched paint and dirt on the tires, a beaded keychain hanging from the rearview mirror. It had a seashell dangling from the bottom; the license plate matched the number in the folder.

"This is it," I said. I unlocked the door, got it, and pushed the tab to unlock the other doors. Eran stood outside, looking at the car with a vague expression. Slowly he walked to his door and stared at it.

"Get in," I said.

"I don't know how."

"The handle on the door. Put your fingers under it and lift."

He did so. The door opened. He got in. I started the car, and told him how to put on the seatbelt. He obeyed everything without question or expression.

Driving was strange and unfamiliar. The concept of right-of-way, when encountered, made me jump and clench the steering wheel. Stranger still was the world outside. Trees remained the same, but he paved road, the musty smell of the car, the sight of the buildings, all conspired to make my heart pound, and it about leapt out of my chest as soon as I neared downtown Portland.

The people, above all, were bizarre. They were like alien creatures from a dream or memory. Everything seemed dirtier, cheaper, and litter lined the roads, not bad but shocking after Merlana. Eran glanced out the window once or twice put otherwise looked straight ahead.

Our apartment was part of a mundane-looking brick building off a side street. It was divided into four residences. We were in the front of the building, upstairs. I took a deep breath as we got out of the car. This would be home sweet home for the next… whenever.

There was a note on the door from the landlady, something about how the place had been cleaned and if there were problems to call her. Inside, the place was bland, but not as grim as I had expected. It was clean, the furniture was decent, and whatever lacks there were could be supplied by the debit card Lisette had given me to a amply-supplied bank account. There were two bedrooms. One was set up as a master, the other as an office with a bed in it.

"You take this one," I said, standing in the doorway of the master. "I'll need the desk in the other room when I start working."

"No," he said. "It's too big."

"Are you sure? I ---"

"I'll move the desk in here," he said in a flat voice. "I don't need it."

I was going to say something else, but a look at him silenced me. What was the point?

There was food in brown paper bags on the table, with a note. They were from a grocery store and had been delivered earlier. Shaw's Supermarket. The name was weirdly familiar, the orange and green logo disconcerting. I quickly busied myself putting the groceries away. Eran tried to help, then shook his head and went and sat on the couch. I tried to avoid looking at him.

The lights inside were bright and artificial. Everything seemed artificial. Eran stood and walked into his room. The door shut. I folded up the last paper bag and slid it beside the fridge. The fridge. What a strange device, this big machinated closet to keep things cold. I shook my head; the unnerved feeling didn't budge.

Once everything was finished, I stood in the middle of the room and stared. It was so empty. The walls were plain white, the curtains a dull blue and white plaid. I needed sleep. There had been toothbrushes, toothpaste, and general kitchen and bathroom supplies with the groceries, but no clothes. We had no blankets or sheets or pillows, either.

"Eran?" I said, and knocked gently on the door. He opened it. "I'm going to the store. We need blankets and things. Will you be okay here?"

"Yes."

"Do you need anything?"

He stared at me, and I saw a flicker of something. I couldn't tell what it was.

"No."

Long pause. "Okay, then," I said. "I'll be back."

I hurried. The stores were huge, with their industrial lighting and shelves upon shelves of bright packages for twenty variations of the same thing. I bought what I needed to quickly, flinched from the talk of the cashiers, and sped back home. I would have sped, anyway. The car still made me nervous.

I knocked on Eran's door again. There was no answer, so I left his blankets and pillows and clothes in a pile outside. I didn't know what his size was, so just got a pair of pajamas and a clean t-shirt. We could go get more in the morning.

An hour later, I rolled over on the too-new pillow, curled up in the blanket, and stared out the window at the moon. At least the moon was the same here.

And the air… perhaps, it, too, would be the same. I went to the window and lifted it open. The old wood creaked. There was a screen, but I could feel the cool summery night air through it. I took a deep breath, then another, and finally sank into listening.

C'mon, you don't seriously think that I'm gonna take that from you?

Have you seen my hairdryer?

Yeah, Mandy and I are goin' over to Steve's barbeque tomorrow, but that's not 'til seven.

The voices were there, but they were so different. The accents, the inflections, the subjects, all strange.

Marea, I thought. 

Princess.

It was her. My heart leapt. She laughed.

Princess sits at her window. Waiting for the white knight? Another laugh. _He already saved you. Your turn!_

What?

But she was gone, faded away on some wave. I bit my lip and stared at the stars for a while before I went back to bed.

* * *

**A/N: So it's a short update. But it covers a lot of ground... literally. Or ocean, or whatever. (Seriously, this whole Maine thing is so much cooler than having them go live in the woods, which was the original plan.**

**Regarding the other Beauty and the Beast novel --- I kinda forgot to put contact info out there for those people who may be interested. SO... all interested parties please just send a quick note to maple. and we'll get this party started:D Thanks for all the kind offers, by the way... I'm actually looking forward to editing! (And, on that note, thanks again for following this story with me... it's a lot of fun on my part. Hopefully on yours too, lol.)**

**AudraLaudargue: I'm still in love with you for the Maine idea, lol. Hopefully your confidence in the ending will be deserved... I guess we'll see... wink wink...**

**KRM-EditorInChief: What's this? Do I have a fellow English major on my hands?! And yeah... I'm interested to see how their relationship develops too. How's it coming across right now?**

**Allyp: Aw, stop guessing or you're going to take all the fun out of it. (Secret: I don't know how Eran's going to end up. He hasn't told me yet. Shh.) This is a semi-recent idea... I usually only think about three chapters ahead on this particular story, so around the time he was teaching her to talk to trees this started forming. And I liked the flying thing too. Wouldn't it be sweet to act like a bird of prey whenever you wanted? (Oh, and I got your gutteresquely note earlier... about died laughing...) **

**InChrist-Billios: Squee! I have people in fangirl mode over one of my characters! This is an exciting day... I thought the "husband and wife" thing was a bit entertaining myself... and I've got a sneaking suspicion it's going to be used later. Mwahaha. And even if no one else got Orion's line, you definitely struck gold or something close. But I'm going to give it all away! Shephards aren't immortal --- they're like monks, kinda... lots of study and special training to be as in-touch with things as they are. (Thanks for asking that... I'll try and work something into the story to explain.) And I'm SO glad the Pearl/Lisette thing came across, I was really hoping it would. **

**ShadowedBeneathMoonlight: Glad to see you again:) And glad you're enjoying the story... definitely e-mail me about the other story, I'd love to get your insight.**


	25. Settling

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Two days passed. We didn't talk much, but slowly Eran seemed to be regaining some sense of himself. He was still distant, and I was still cut off entirely from his feelings, save what I could decipher on his face. It worried me. I tried to figure out what I could do to help, but he wouldn't talk and I couldn't bear asking any of the questions that were clamoring for attention in my head.

We were watching television one afternoon. It was disgusting and shallow, but fascinating. Eran had discovered the remote control and had settled on some old sitcom. It switched to a loud, crassly humorous commercial, and one of his eyebrows was drawn down in an expression of irony.

"T.V. is so weird," I said. He nodded.

"Yeah."

"I've never heard you use that word."

"It must be rubbing off."

"Are you watching this?"

He scoffed. "No." I turned it off.

"Let's go for a walk."

The trees were in their full summer glory. We passed a group of kids in swimsuits playing with chalk on the sidewalk. I smiled. They looked away, then back, then away again. I caught a hint of music. Marea. It was a beautiful song, cheerful and trilling and suited to the day.

"At last that's the same," I said.

"What is?"

"The singing."

He knit his eyebrows.

"What singing?"

"Marea."

He nodded. "Oh."

We walked in silence for a while. Her music kept going in the background as we drew closer to a park by the shore. The sea looked different than it had in Merlana, darker and colder and not quite so big. Well, of course it would. We were in a whole different part of the world. I sat on a swing and rocked gently back and forth. Eran sat next to me.

Princess, Marea said in a sing-song voice.

Yes?

Your family says hello. I shouldn't say too much, never know who's listening… but probably no Desviadans today. There's a big storm on the coast. Lots _of problems it's causing._

I laughed. _Thank you._ Eran glanced at me.

"What?"

"What what?"

"What are you laughing at?"

"Marea," I said again. "Didn't you hear her? She's sent storms to Desviado."

"I see."

Eran, Marea said in the same tone. _Little sea shephard. Eran._ Nothing. I looked at him, then out at sea. _Eran… _Realization hit and knocked my breath away. I stared at the water.

He can't hear you.

Seems like it, she said. 

"Eran." He looked at me. I met his eyes, and he didn't look away, but neither did his eyes connect to mine as they used to. "What happened when you… after she stabbed you?"

He looked away. "I don't know."

"What's a life spell?"

"It takes your energy," he said. "Your powers, however many years you might have lived, everything you've got. Enough life spells and you can live forever. It's evil magic. But I didn't know if you could use a substitute."

"But you risked it."

"Yes."

It was quiet but for the creaking of the swing chains. I took a deep breath; the air was salty and fresh.

"Why did you do it?"

"I just did it," he said. "I didn't think."

What did it do to you? I thought. My words hit a dark wall and rebounded, slamming behind my eyes. I lurched; he held out a hand to steady me. 

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," I said, blinking to clear the stars from my eyes. I'd have to say it. Out loud, where the air could make everything real. "What did it do? To you, I mean." He didn't respond; words rose to fill the silence. "You're so… different."

"I know."

I waited. He looked down at the ground.

"You can't hear her, can you?"

His shoulder twitched. It was as though I'd slapped him. I bit the inside of my cheek. When he spoke, his voice was so low I had to strain to hear it.

"I can't hear anything." He cleared his throat. "There's nothing, just this… this silence. I've never heard silence before. Not really. There was always something, even if I didn't want to hear it, always some message or feeling." He looked down at our hands. Mine had somehow come to rest atop his. "And… I can't feel you anymore."

"Eran, I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"It is, actually."

"No," he said. "I was supposed to protect you, and I did."

"But not like this."

He shrugged. "What are we going to do about it now? I just have to accept it."

The quiet resignation in his voice made my eyes prickle. I wanted to say something, but my voice wouldn't force out the words.

"Why am I here?" he asked after a while. "Why aren't I in Merlana?"

A laugh broke from my choked throat. It sounded like it was bringing tears up with it. I swallowed hard.

"I don't quite know," I said, too brisk to cover up the sudden emotion. "I just knew you needed to be with me. Orion agreed with me."

"Then there must be a reason."

There was. There had to be, or else Orion wouldn't have suggested this. Marea wouldn't have spoken to me, whatever she'd meant. I bit my lip.

"Are you okay?" he asked. I shook my head.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"You're crying."

"No, I'm not, I ---" I looked away. "I'm fine."

He turned his hand over. My fingers slipped between his. It should have been weird, but it wasn't. Instead I was so relieved to have some connection with him again that I held on, wishing it was more and trying to think again how to bring him back.

"Eran," I said.

"Yes?"

"We're going to get through this."

"I think you will," he said softly.

"I said we."

"I heard you."

A tear sneaked out. I brushed it away and pretended to be pushing hair behind my ear.

There had to be something we could do. There had to be some way. A thought, unrelated, slipped into my mind.

"Does Rochelle have your powers now?"

He was thoughtful a moment.

"I don't know. It's possible. Probable."

I had to get word back home. They probably knew already, but still, I had to do everything I could to help.

Marea? I called. She was there immediately.

A message?

Yes. Tell them ---

I know what to tell them. But after this, not so much communication. If you're right, she'll be able to hear what I'm saying. Keep quiet, even in your thoughts.

I will. Thank you.

A gust of wind came up from behind us. My hair blew into my face and stuck to my lips and wet cheek; I brushed it away.

A week slipped past, and then another. I found a job in a little used bookstore near the harbor. The place smelled like paper and histories and reminded me of older sections of the library of the Palace Merlana. My boss was a white-haired old woman named Ruth with a passion for gardening and classic British literature, and spent hours reading and reorganizing when business was slow. I followed her example.

Eran sometimes rode with me downtown, then would go and wander through the shops in the nearby area. I worried for him constantly, and demanded that he have his cell phone with him at all times. Lisette, in a burst of foresight, had made sure we both had phones; I was deeply grateful.

The bell on the door rang. I looked up from where I had been restocking shelves on Japanese theatre. It was him. I smiled.

"Hey."

"Hi." He handed me a small paper bag. Inside was a pastry. I grinned.

"Thanks."

"It's starting to rain out," he said. "I thought I'd come see how you were doing."

"Mary?"

I set the bag on the counter and leaned over the wobbly railing that led down to the basement. Ruth was standing at the bottom of the stairs, a collection of cheap romance novels in her arms.

"Yes?"

"Where did I put the new relationship advice books? I'm going to put a section of them next to this crap as a statement on the futility of love in general, since no real man will ever compare with the dashingly roguish character of this ---" she picked up a book and eyed it "--- fellow whose name, I can only presume, is Sebastian the Shirtless Pirate."

I shot Eran a look, then said, "I think they're all in those crates behind the back shelves."

"Thanks much. Who's up there with you?"

"Aaron."

"Who?"

"My husband," I said, though the words were rather hard to get out. The idea was still too awkward to talk much about; I avoided referring to him as such whenever possible.

"Oh. Well, pardon my musings on the futility of love. My own husbands never turned out to be worth much, but maybe yours will."

"He's doing all right so far," I said with a laugh. She disappeared again, and a while later I could hear her singing some old jazz standard.

"And that," I said, "is Ruth."

"I like her," Eran said.

"It's not hard to. So, what have you been up to all day?"

"Went through some shops and then walked down by the boats. And then a bird dropped this at my feet." He held up an envelope stained with mud and waved by water. I took it. Across the front, in smudged ink, were the words _La rispo e sulola ondi_.

The words were Merlan. I furrowed my brow.

"_The answer is on the waves?_"

"It's an old saying," he said. "It means that no matter what questions you have, the answers can be found in the sea."

"Who's it from?"

"I haven't opened it."

"Do you think it's a trap?" I asked. He looked at it, then shook his head.

"No. Look at the way the last 'i' is written."

The letter swooped up, then didn't come back down. Instead, it curved back in on itself and over the previous letter as though about to crash over the 'd'. I looked at him.

"So?"

"That's a uniquely Merlan way of writing the word," he said. "It's symbolic of the way the ocean is over everything and goes wherever she wants. Not many would know to write it that way."

I blinked. "I'm so glad you're here," I said. I slit the letter open; a single sheet fell out. I couldn't make out the language. It wasn't Merlan.

"Marsh en Era, E shanta ne lanta in penshash?" I said slowly. "What?"

He took the letter.

"It's Shush," he said. "Language of the shephards. Very rarely spoken." He glanced over the lines a few times. "Your family hopes you are well. They have discovered little but believe your guess regarding Rochelle's abilities may be correct and advise you to keep up precautions. Orion says to remember all he has told you, and tells me…" He fell silent, then glanced up. "Wishes me luck and advises I keep meditating."

I had a strange feeling he was lying.

"Anything else?"

"Stay safe and remember to lock your doors."

"Sounds like Lisette."

"It's from all three of them and Orion."

I nodded. Whatever language it was in, and however little they could say, hearing from my family was comforting beyond words. I took a moment to let the peaceful feeling settle in, even if I knew it couldn't last. Then I put a smile on and tore a corner off the pastry.

"So, want some… French… flaky cherry-filled frostingy thing?"

He laughed. It was the first time I'd heard the sound not tinged with some dark irony since we'd arrived.

"Yeah."

* * *

**A/N: I'm interested to see what ya'll think of this... Not sure how it's coming across. Oh, and I'm not entirely sure where to go from here (have a general idea, but not sure where NEXT... you know how it goes), so ideas/questions are very welcome! **

**Audra Laudargue: How was this for adventure and romance? I'm really glad you pointing out the housekeeping... I realized after you said that that I'd spent the entire previous chapter detailing pointless stuff when I'm the only one who needs to know where their toothbrushes come from, lol. Thanks for the reminder!**

**Bingo7: The voices were just whatever the wind was carrying. Should've clarified, sorry about that! Hopefully Eran is less sad in this chapter... at least for now...**

**Hunchbook: Wow... you read that far, I'm really impressed. Attacking completed stories can be intimidating. Thanks so much! Hoping you're still with me. And thanks for pointing out the typos --- they're a weakness I need to watch!**

**jinxywinxy: Typing your name is just fun. Sorry, anyway... :p I know exactly what you mean about school... same here... And yeah, they're quite young to be married. But Merlans marry younger, and even in our world, a fair few of my 18- and 19-year-old friends are getting married. (It's weirding me out, for the record.)**

**KRM-EditorInChief: Yeah, Marina and Eran are going to get... you know. They're going to talk. And... stuff. (Mysterious, is it not? Well, okay, so not really... Teehee.) And I'm loving the quick updating, too... it's fun to get absorbed in a story again! I'm a Professional Writing major... I sold a couple articles last year so I want to either freelance, become a staff writer for a magazine, or do editing in YA Fiction. We'll see how that pans out. Lit sounds like such a fun major, though!**

**Ally: You get an note on _this_ chapter... the typos have been duly fixed. :D**


	26. Magic of Merlana

_Okay, it's been a while. Quick summary of where we're at: Eran's lost his powers and he and Marina are living in Portland, Maine. Marina has a job at a bookshop, and Eran is trying to adjust to a world where he can't hear the sofa talking. They've had a letter from home that told them essentially that they're stuck there for a while yet, and so they're hanging around, waiting for news and/or plot twists._

**CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE**

Eran was curled up on the couch, nose buried in a book. I smiled. I had brought it home from work one afternoon; it was on world religions and thought he'd be interested. I dropped my purse on the kitchen table and he looked up.

"This is fascinating," he said.

"I thought you'd think so."

"So many different ideas."

"Yeah."

He went back to the book. I turned to the newspaper. I'd gotten a subscription so I could keep an eye on what was going on in the world. If Rochelle appeared, perhaps there'd be some indication. So far we'd managed to keep a low profile, but it didn't hurt to be aware.

There was an article in the Local section that talked about a new yoga center that was opening up. One of the instructors was talking about meditation.

"It's a way to recover yourself," she was quoted as saying. "You start to hear things more acutely and become in touch with your feelings. So many of us have lost the ability to listen. Meditation helps you regain that."

I looked up at Eran, then back at the page.

__

So many of us have lost the ability to listen.

"Hey, Eran?"

"Yes?"

"Do you meditate?"

He looked mildly surprised, but said, "I used to. Every day. It's part of the shephard's practice."

"But you don't anymore?"

"Not since we came here."

"Why not?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Too much silence. I don't feel like myself."

"I think you should."

I left it at that and went back to my reading. I felt eyes on me but ignored them.

The apartment was silent. I'd gone out to get the mail -- not that we had much, but pizza coupons and political pamphlets were there and they to be dealt with or society would crumble -- and had been sidetracked by Mandy, a friendly, talkative girl who lived downstairs. She was newly married and had discovered that I too had just entered nuptial bliss; she wanted to discuss the joys of matrimony. I faked my way through the conversation as best I could, silently praying that it wouldn't turn to a discussion of more intimate issues, and welcomed the sight of her husband getting home from work. She beamed, hugged him, and they had gone inside to be newly-married together. I was glad to escape.

"Eran?" I called. The usual flare of worry that rose up whenever I didn't know where he was started. I knocked on his bedroom door.

"Come in."

He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, looking at a blank wall. I hid a smile; he'd clearly taken my comment to heart. There was a moment of silence, and then he took a deep breath and turned to me.

"Why did you suggest this?"

"I thought it might help you," I said.

"It's awful."

I sat on the floor next to him and started sorting through the junk mail, feeling that the appearance of preoccupation might keep him talking. "Why's that?"

"I'm not used to this. I always have my feelings under control. Always."

"Yeah. I'd noticed."

"They're not anymore. They just… they rise up and it's everything I can do to stay sitting there."

"Welcome to my world."

"It's horrible."

"Sometimes."

He laid on the floor and stared up at the ceiling. "I don't know how much longer I can do this, Marina."

"What do you mean?"

"I need to get back to Merlana. Maybe Orion can help me."

I shook my head.

"What?"

"I don't think he can," I said. "I talked to him right after the whole thing in the garden. He said… he hinted that he couldn't help you. I have to."

He looked sharply up at me.

"You?"

"I think I'm offended," I said, then shot him a quick grin. The corner of his mouth twitched.

"I'm sorry, I just don't think you can help me."

"Come on, why not? I'm getting better."

"Because of what you just said. Your emotions aren't under control. You feel so much. I'm of the earth; I don't change so much."

"I'm earth, too."

"But you are also everything else. Your mother was a mermaid. Mermaids are among the most passionate peoples on the earth. I'm a sea shephard. We're calm by nature."

"I thought a shephard wasn't something you were born as," I said. I traced a pattern in the carpet. He seemed more willing to talk if I didn't meet his eyes.

"You're not," he said. "But it usually runs in a family. It takes a certain disposition. My father was a shephard, my mother a shephardess. My younger brother is in training."

I looked up in surprise. "I didn't know you had a brother."

"He's on another island."

We fell silent. He was breathing deeply. I looked up and saw that his eyes were not quite focused.

"You okay?"

"Yes," he said. "Just… it's too much."

I nodded. "You should get a job to take your mind off things."

He raised an eyebrow; I couldn't help laughing.

"I'd give us away in moments," he said. "I didn't know what the dishwasher was." An expression of concern flickered over his face. "Is it money?"

I shook my head. We didn't need more money -- the apartment lease had been paid for the upcoming year, and Ryne had arranged for funds to be deposited into an account here at our disposal. The whole thing had been a smooth operation from start to finish. Last time, Lisette had told me in the hurried hours before we left, it had been chaotic. In the years following, Ryne, Pearl, Lisette, and Roberto had carefully mapped out a plan in case such a need should arise again. I was grateful they had, but at the same time I had needed something to do in the beginning besides watching Eran's blank face around the apartment day after day.

"No. Just to keep your mind off things, like I did," I said.

"I thought it was because you'd had a childhood dream of working in a bookshop," he said with a slightly accusing glare. I looked appropriately sheepish.

"And I was stressed and needed to get out of the house."

"Truth prevails."

I grinned and leaned back on my elbows. "Yeah, well, it usually does." My mind flicked back to Mensonge and I firmly guided it away again. "Why are we here?" I asked after another moment.

"What do you mean? To keep you from getting killed springs to mind…"

"No, I mean why here? Wouldn't we be just as protected in Merlana?"

"Oh. That."

"Oh what?"

"The net."

"The what?"

"Haven't you learned about that?"

"I don't think so."

He blinked and stared at me with an expression that hinted at shock. After a long, very dramatic pause, he said, "What do you know about Merlana's magic?"

"Big, powerful, everybody's got some, and it all ties back to the sea."

"Everybody's got some. That's the net. Everyone there has some abilities. Some people are especially gifted, but even the most powerful, even Ryne, he can't do anything big without the help of others. It was a safeguard to keep the monarchy from misusing their power."

"How can it be a safeguard? It's magic. You're born with it."

"But our magic is from the sea. We got it from the mermaids, and they knew that human beings craved power, so they made us rely on one another."

"Oh."

I was quiet a moment, connecting the links in my mind. "So even though we're powerful together, Rochelle is more powerful alone, one on one?"

"Yes."

"So can't we all just work together?" It seemed simple enough, but Eran shook his head.

"No. It's… well, it's complicated."

"I'm not going anywhere."

He pursed his lips. "Okay. I'll try to make this make sense. Merlan magic requires a net, right?"

"Right, I got that."

"For the net to work against someone like Rochelle, we'd need large numbers of people with average skills, or a smaller group of those at Ryne's level."

"Okay."

"For those people to work together, they would need some way of communicating their intentions without Rochelle knowing about it."

My mind flashed back to that night in the gardens. People had been speaking silently, mind-to-mind. "Isn't that what thought speech is for?"

"In most cases. It obviously worked to a point when we were trying to defend you, but the trouble is that Rochelle uses a kind of magic we can't get at. Merlan magic absolutely recoils as soon as we get near black magic. We can't sense it clearly, and we can't do it. It's like… it's like mercury, or water on wax. Our magic is repelled by much of what she does."

"Like magnets, how they push away from each other."

He looked relieved that I had grasped the concept. "Exactly."

"So… you can't sense what she's doing."

"Right. And our spells are weaker against her. They get weak as soon as they hit corruption. She's found that if she weaves black magic into regular spells that we can't find her, and we can't fight against her as well as we'd like to."

"I thought spells were spells. How can you weave in black magic?"

"You make it hurt someone," he said. "So when she uses a simple spell, it at the same time robs someone of their strength. If it's something small, one of her servants will have a headache. Something bigger, someone has an accident and is wounded."

"And for the biggest, she kills someone," I said. I shivered. The air seemed colder than it had been a moment before. "Life spells."

He nodded. "That's the life spell. It's big magic, and it's evil, so someone has to die."

It was quiet.

"Oh," I said after a while. There didn't seem to be anything left to say; he nodded.

I picked up a pizza coupon and stared blankly at it, then looked up. "I've… got to think about this," I said. "Let's go get dinner."

**A/N: Forgive me, readers, for I have gotten sidetracked and unmotivated. But I return to you as always and hope that ya'll are still with me... Especially after this chapter. There's going to have to be some sparkly chemistry in the next one to make up for this conversation, lol. **

**InChrist-Billios: I love your rabid fangirl mode. It makes me feel very successful. :D And fear not, all questions will be answered. Eventually.**

**KRM-EditorInChief: Thanks! You know, I haven't really played with the regret idea yet, but it might have to come out in the next few chapters... And YA editing? Hehe. High five.**

**Ally: I had a sneaking suspicion you'd like the Sebastian bit. Eran and Grett are still going to have to get together at some point. And yeah, Shush is a language that mimics the waves. Unfortunately, since I have not written for two months and failed to take notes last time, I have forgotten what the words say.**

**Audra Laudargue: Thanks. I'm glad it's coming across as gradual. There's a lot of danger of him getting really... spastic... which of course I may do for effect, but it'd be nice to have it be intentional, you know? And I love warm fuzzy awkward string-section-filled moments. tearyness :D**

**Bingo7: Sad but nice. Yay. :) Yeah, the husband thing is weirding me out just a little...**

**jinxywinxy: Thanks! And keep studying... it'll all be over someday... lol.**

**Twilightloverkaren: Thanks! Hope to see you again. :)**

**Daedra: Thank you! **

**Hunchbook: Okay, so, that was pretty much one of the most detailed reviews I've ever gotten, and in all honesty I should have updated sooner purely based on its thoughtfulness and attention, which inspired this chapter. (I was trying to think of a more subtle way to get this all out but I don't know how to do so without making the book about 20 chapters longer than it needs to be... hopefully it worked out okay.) Anyway... thanks much!**

**To everybody: Thanks for your patience!**


	27. Implosion

**CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR**

The tinkling sound of cutlery rose and fell with the voices of the people around us. I picked at the olives on my pizza. They were a nice color, and shiny and pretty and like ink, in a weird, edible sort of way. Eran was absorbed in his placemat. It was paper and listen all sorts of Fun Facts about the invention and evolution of pizza.

_You're cute,_ I thought, and immediately slammed down a gate on that particular impression. Where had that come from? In the first place, this was Eran. I was not supposed to be thinking those sorts of things about Eran. In the second, it had been thought speech, not just thought. And the thing about thought speech was that he might hear it, and that would be something akin to awkward.

Not that it mattered, I realized. But he had furrowed his brows and looked up.

"Sorry," he said. "Did you say something?"

"No," I said.

Wait. My stomach leapt up and wrapped around my heart. _Can you hear me?_

Nothing. The words hit the same wall I'd come across the few other times I'd tried, but it seemed softer and less impermeable, gray instead of black.

_Eran. Can you hear me? Eran. Eran. Eran._ The name took on a singsong quality in my mind. It bounced off the wall like an echo. _Eran. Can you hear me? Eran._

I saw him look up again out of the corner of my eye. I was dipping a breadstick into this place's top-secret sauce and didn't look at him. He went back to the placemat.

_Oh my gosh,_ I thought. _You totally heard me. Eran. Eran. Eran… _

He looked up a third time.

"Did you turn the oven off before we left?" he asked.

"Was it on?"

"No," he said. "I guess not. I just feel like I've forgotten something."

"Hm."

_Eran. _

But the wall had gotten hard again. His jaw clenched.

"Are you okay?"

"I don't know," he said. "I just got frustrated all of a sudden. No good reason."

"You probably have a reason somewhere," I said, and waited for a light bulb to turn on. He shrugged and didn't reply.

There was something oddly familiar about this scenario. You got frustrated and tense, and the voices stopped. It was one of the first lessons, but the hardest to learn.

"I think," I said, "I think we should go for a walk down by the water after we're done. I want to try something."

"What kind of something?"

"It's a secret."

"Mysterious," he said wryly.

"Just trust me on this, okay? I think it'll help you."

"All right."

We finished the meal and headed out. We'd walked to the restaurant, as it was only a matter of a few blocks, and now we headed home the long way, down by the sea. There weren't many places you could really access it from here, but there was a small park that had beach just beyond the chain link fence that surrounded it.

I sat on the sand in the most secluded place I could find. In between us and the park was a chain-link fence dotted with bushes, so we had relative privacy and relative quiet. A few kids were walking along the rocks nearby, but they ignored us completely. I patted the sand next to me, and Eran sat, an eyebrow lifted.

"What are we doing?"

"Listening."

He looked skeptical but didn't object. We sat for a while. The waves rolled in softly near us, and it wasn't long before we were both staring out at the water. My feet had dug into the sand. When Eran's breathing had slowed and mine had matched it, I tried again.

_Eran._

His eyebrow lifted slightly.

_Eran. Can you hear me?_

His face twitched as though a fly had just landed on it. He was staring out to the sea with great concentration.

"Can you hear it?" I asked. He looked annoyed.

"I can't hear anything. You know that."

"But something's bothering you, right?"

"Yes. So?"

"So I'm trying to talk to you. I'm sending thought speech and I think you're picking up on some of it."

His eyebrows turned down in a scowl of concentration.

"Try again."

_Eran. Can you hear me?_

"No, I can't hear you," he said. I looked sharply at him. He added, "You're asking 'Can you hear me?' I can't hear it but I know you well enough. Try something I won't guess."

I nodded. "Okay." _I think the dishwasher's about to give up the ghost. It was being weird this morning and the plates keep coming out with these scary crusty things on them that were never there to begin with._

"Did you hear that?"

"No. Make sure it's simple."

_Cats. Think about cats. Meow. Tails. Whiskers. Cats. Cats. Cats. _

He twitched again.

"Stop concentrating so hard," I said. He took a deep breath but his body was tense.

"Try images."

I pictured him touching his nose. Nothing. He rolled his shoulders.

"Are you picturing something?"

"Yes," I said. "Be quiet and listen."

"I am being quiet," he snapped.

"Don't get mad at me, I'm just trying to help."

His mouth opened, then closed again. I could see his jaw clenching as he ground his teeth, biting back whatever retort had come up.

_Finger. Nose. Touch your nose. _

"I can feel it," he said. "I can tell you're saying something but it's muffled. It's…" He let out a harsh sigh and hit the sand. The guy was radiating annoyance. This was not going to work.

"Just look at the ocean," I said. "Try to relax. Maybe it'll come to you."

"Marina, it's not coming."

The kids had left. I let a handful of sand sift through my fingers. "You've been meditating, right?"

"Of course I have."

"Try to get into that state."

He was rigid for a moment, then stood and brushed sand off.

"This isn't working," he said. "Let's go." He glanced toward the sea with a furrowed brow, as though angry at it, or afraid. I couldn't tell. I clambered to my feet; he offered a hand a second too late.

"Why won't you try?"

"I am trying."

"You are not. You're just as bad as I was," I said. "Can't hold still, won't put any effort into it, and ---"

"What do you want me to do?" he said. "We don't even know if I can get it back."

"You can," I said, voice too firm. "Orion sent us here and I'm sure he knows what he's doing."

"That makes one of us." He looked out at the water again and shifted his weight. "Why did you bring me down here?"

I looked out at the water. Marea was silent, listening in on our conversation. "I thought being near it would help."

"It's not helping," he said. "I hate it here." I frowned, and he added, "Look, let's go."

Hate. It was a word I'd never expected to hear from a Merlan in relation to the sea. I touched his arm softly. He stiffened.

"Eran," I said softly. His shoulders slumped a little. A breeze blew past us and ruffled his hair. He wouldn't look at me.

"I can't stand not hearing her," he said. "Come on, let's go. Please."

Of course. I couldn't imagine it now, though a few years ago the thought that I'd be having this conversation would have been ludicrous.

_Eran,_ came Marea's singsong voice. _Eran, little shephard. Listen. Can you hear me?_

He twitched, and got stiff again.

"What are you trying now?" he asked. I shook my head.

"That's not me, it's her."

"_Karshesh,_" he muttered. I didn't know what it meant, but it sounded like some sort of oath. "Can't one of you let up for one minute?"

That was a bit unfair. I drew back.

"We're just trying to help," I said. "You can't get mad at us for that."

"I can and I will and I am," he said. He spun on his heel. I reached out to grab him. He stopped dead at my touch, then turned back around. His eyes flashed.

He pushed me against the fence, hands against my shoulders. Branches poked at the back of my knees.

"What are you ---"

Then his lips were on mine. His body was warm and his mouth was hard and urgent. My stomach spun. He smelled amazing. I slid a hand up his back, but the moment it stopped to rest on his neck, he shoved himself roughly away.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he said, voice harsh. "And now, nothing. I feel _nothing._"

It took me a moment to regain my balance. How could that have been nothing? I opened my mouth.

"Eran, I ---"

He cut me off, still pressing my shoulders against the fence. His face was close to mine, and his expression was wild and dangerous. I couldn't breathe.

"I don't mean it like that," he said. "Your body is there, but I can't hear you. I know your soul must be in there somewhere but I can't find it." His eyes darted all over my face, and then he let go and stepped back. He stared at me for a long time, and then he deflated. He wouldn't look at me again. "I'm sorry," he said in a low voice. "Let's go."

Back at home, he went straight to his room and shut the door, and I started going the day-old pots and pans I hadn't dared put through the dishwasher. I was reeling. Where had that _come _from? He'd wanted… but I'd never thought…. it had always seemed… I'd kissed him back… he wasn't talking to me now… was he all right?… the feel of his shirt under my hand… his lips… he'd been angry, not in his right mind… but hadn't Lisette always said that people were most honest when they were angry? The thoughts chased each other around in my head until, abruptly, I looked down and realized that the dishes were done. I couldn't remember having washed them, but my hands were wrinkled and the dishes stood dripping on the rack.

I needed air. I needed to talk to someone, but there was only one person. I went outside, ran down to the edge of the street to where I could just see the ocean, and called for her.

_Marea?_

_I told you, not so much talking,_ she said in a voice more teasing than serious.

_What was that? What now? Tell me._

_Not my place!_

_Marea. Please._

A rippling laugh, like wind across the waves. And then she spoke, and her tone was more serious.

_I'll tell you this much, little princess,_ she said. _You've turned to the right direction. I'd pursue it, if I were you._

That? _That_ had been the right track? I realized with a jolt that a small part of me wasn't complaining, and the thought made me very nervous.

_What do you mean? The kiss or having him listen?_ I asked, and her voice was playful again.

_You'll have to figure this one out yourself. Time to finish your own fairy tale!_

And then she laughed, and the laughter faded out across the water until she was gone. I stared at the waves and thought I saw a spray of water floating away across the sea. But I could have been imagining it. I stood still to think, then decided I didn't really want to think, and went back home.

**A/N AND GENERAL APOLOGETICNESS: Yes, this has taken forever. For the record, in the meantime, I have finished my second semester of school, had a full-time job, helped with daycare for my four little cousins, been in two plays, finished and edited a novel, started sending out queries for agents, did NaNoWriMo again, and… You get the idea. I haven't given up on this, though. I really do love it too much to drop it like that. **

**Also, for the record, you may all thank InChrist-Billios for reminding me that this story was needing some TLC. She sent me really sweet little prod a bit ago and compelled me to get this chapter half-done, and then I did NaNoWriMo and got straight back to it this morning, so Billi --- THANK YOU! :D**

**  
KRM-EditorInChief: Good, I'm glad that worked! And yes, this chapter took its merry time…**

**AllyP: Hahahaha… Shake your peanut… Wow, it's been a long time since I've updated or looked at these comments, lol…**

**Audra Laudargue: You've probably forgotten this story existed again, lol… Sorry! **

**Gnomie022: I hurt your heart… Sorry! **

**jinxywinxie: Yeah, it's been a long time… Sorry! (I should probably start mimeographing apologies…)**

**Hunchbook: Ooh, excellent question, and I will answer it soon. Ish.**

**inktounge58: Thanks! And… well, keep reading.**


	28. Aftermath

****

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

I knocked on his door. He didn't answer.

"Eran?" I called softly. "Can we talk?"

Nothing for a moment, and then the door opened. His eyes were red but dry, and I felt my heart soften and reach out toward him, as though I could protect him from himself. I knew I couldn't. I knew it wasn't my place. I had to help him but in the end, he had to learn everything on his own, just like I'd had to. The knowledge hurt.

He looked down at me with a hard face. A muscle in his jaw twitched.

"I'm sorry," he said. His voice cracked. I shook my head.

"No," I said. "It's okay."

"I shouldn't have done that," he said stiffly. "Should I?" He looked at me, seeking either of validation or reproach.

"It's not up to me to say," I said. I looked down at the bland carpet beyond his feet and said slowly, "If you felt like it was… if you wanted to do it, then I don't think it was wrong, necessarily."

"It wasn't right, though," he said.

"Maybe not," I said. "I honestly… I don't know."

"I shouldn't treat people I care about like that," he said. He sounded as though he were reciting rules learned a long time ago. _I must use my indoor voice. I must remember to leave my shoes at the door when visiting guests._ "I shouldn't…" he said, and for a moment the control slipped and he was human and annoyed. "I don't know what I was thinking."

"It's okay," I said again. I took his hand. It was slender but strong, the way it had always been even if everything else might have changed. His fingers curled around mine and squeezed.

I wanted to ask about his comment --- _You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that _--- but I couldn't bring myself to. This was awkward enough. Anyway, he'd said he felt nothing now. That would have to be enough; I'd have to be content with it.

"Can I come in?" I said. "I want to run something by you."

"Yeah," he said. He dropped my hand and stepped back to let me through. "Of course."

I went in and sat on the floor. So did he. There was furniture there, of course, but neither of us were inclined towards it. I wasn't sure if it was a Merlan thing or just an odd quirk we shared.

"I just talked to Marea," I said. He nodded, lips tightly pursed. "And she said we're on the right track. I don't know what that means, but I think we should keep working at thought speech. I really do think you can get it back."

He looked down at the carpet. "Marina," he said. "I…" He let out a sharp breath. "It makes me so angry, and I can't seem to control it when I'm angry. Not anymore."

"Yeah, I know," I said, in the most gentle, nonjudgmental voice I could muster. "I'm okay with that."

"I don't know if I am."

"Well, there's only one way to find out." He didn't look convinced. I continued, "Here, think of it this way. You can be angry and stuck forever, or you can take a step forward and see what happens. Call me crazy but..." I trailed off, leaving him to finish the sentence himself.

"I can see how it would be to you," he said. I put a hand on his knee. He was sitting cross-legged in front of me, and it seemed the simplest way to force a connection, if he wouldn't look my way.

"Come on," I said. "Give it a try? For me?"

"I've done enough for you," he muttered, but I could see a smile at the corner of his mouth, and he looked up at me under the long lashes in a way that suggested he thought he was getting away with something. I grinned. It was good to see him smiling at all.

"I know that, too," I said. "But why stop now? Come on. Please?"

"All right," he said after a moment. "But I might fly at you and yell at you and completely shut down and… and any number of things."

"I'll risk it."

"Right," he said. "Right." He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, then straightened his shoulders and finally met my eyes. "Where do we start?"

"I have no idea," I said. "Where you started with me, I guess."

And so we did. We sat there on the floor, and I tried to convey simple images to him. Nothing happened for an hour, but I insisted on continuing for as long as he could make himself sit still. Give the deep training in quiet stillness that was still very much a part of him, it seemed we could be there for a while.

__

Raindrop,

I thought, picturing a droplet of water, blue and cartoonish, while I chanted the word in my head. I wanted to keep it simple. _Raindrop. Raindrop. Raindrop._ He fidgeted, eyes closed so firmly there was hint of a squint about them. One of his hands rested on his knee and I placed my own hand over it. His eyes flew open.

"Raindrop," he said. I squealed. I couldn't help it.

"Yes!" I said. "Yes! How did you know? It worked?"

"I don't know how I knew," he said. "I didn't hear anything, but I just knew what you were thinking."

This was a huge, huge leap forward. My grin felt like it was going to split my face in two.

"Did you get an image or anything?" I said.

"Not really," he said. "Blue. Really bright blue."

The grin, if it were possible, grew.

"Okay," I said. "Try this one." _Flower. Flower. Flower._

But it seemed that raindrop was all we were getting for the day. Eran had blocked off. I could feel the wall back in place, and it wouldn't let down for me. We gave up after another hour; he was getting agitated, like a small child tired of its lessons. Still, I wasn't discouraged. He had known. It was hope.

*****

"Have any of your gifts come out?" Eran asked. I twisted around to look down at him. It was no easy feat; I was standing on a chair to change a light bulb, and he was below me. He'd just come back from a walk by the sea. He often walked there in an attempt to reconnect with Marea. I was never sure what mood he'd come home in. His voice now was thoughtful but friendly, the kind of voice you use for conversation, not confrontation.

"My what?"

"Your gifts."

"Oh," I said. My arms gave a mild twinge of protest, and I finished screwing in the bulb and turned around before answering him. "No. Not that I can tell. Nereida hinted they'd come out with guidance but I don't have a whole lot of that here."

He held out a hand. I took it and jumped down from the chair with rather less grace than I'd intended. The sound probably gave the downstairs neighbors a scare. I didn't care; I'd had enough of their midnight movies, so they could deal with it.

"Thanks," I said.

"You're welcome. So, nothing?"

"Not that I can think of. I don't know. I haven't been working much on magic lately."

"Been too busy working on me."

I shrugged. "You're more important."

"Not really." He frowned. "Do you think I could help you with it?"

"I dunno," I said. I picked up the chair, but he took it from me and put it back under the table. "Do you think you could?"

"Maybe," he said. "I'm sort of useless right now but I know things about the discovery process and the magic that helps gifts manifest."

This much was true. I hadn't given more than a few minutes' thought to my gifts, whatever they were, since my birthday. The night in the garden and everything following had wiped all but our safety and Eran's condition from my mind. Every time the idea of working on my own magic had risen up, I'd dismissed it, reminding myself sternly that I was here to help him. Now, though, if he was offering to help me… Well, I couldn't deny I was a little bit curious. All right, maybe a lot.

"Well," I said, "what do you know about them?" I perched on the edge of the couch. He settled on the floor, cross-legged.

"They begin to unfold on your eighteenth birthday. Usually you go through all kinds of lessons with masters, dabbling in different kinds of magic, and then at some point you're supposed to be some kind of prodigy in a field. Ryne would have been okay at everything but then dazzled his flight instructor or art tutor." He tilted his head a little. "I imagine the art gift would have taken a while to figure out. It's definitely unique."

"So they can be unique? They're not, I mean… they don't just come in a handful of flavors?"

"Flavors?" he said, amused, one eyebrow raised. "No."

"So how can you help me?"

"I can teach you things. Guide you through certain kinds of magics. I'm not a master by any means, but I know the theory. It probably won't be as clear, but I might be able to at least turn you in the right direction. You're going to be so far behind by the time we get back to Merlana."

This was the first time he had mentioned the possibility that we might go back, without adding some bitter comment about the unlikelihood of that or about how maybe someone there could "fix" him, if such a thing were possible at all. It made my mood, already genial, lighten by several shades.

"That's okay," I said. "I don't mind; it'll give me an excuse if I turn out to be a really slow student."

He grinned, and opened his mouth, but I cut him off, "You say that I'm already a slow student and I'm going to kick you. I could just about reach your head from here."

He laughed, and I slid down onto the floor next to him. "Okay, what first?"

"Eager little bird."

"Enjoy it while you can."

And with that, we set to work.

It was the happiest, most productive time we'd had since we'd arrived on the shores of the US of A. It felt so good to have both of us working, not just for his benefit or my benefit but both of ours. He led me through all sorts of strange exercises conducted mostly from memory. We tried flying first.

"Jump," he said once we were in a secluded area in the forest of Cape Elizabeth. We were standing some feet down the small slope from the old ruin of a house that had always reminded me of Cair Paravel. I looked at him.

"That's it?"

"Yes, that's it."

I frowned and furrowed my brow at him, in a "What the heck?" expression, but he just gestured impatiently. I jumped. Nothing happened. He sighed.

"Well, it didn't hurt to try. Come on."

I fell into step beside him as he headed back to the car.

"That was _it?_"

"Yes," he said. "These tests aren't complicated."

"We came all the way to Cape Elizabeth for _that?_"

"What do you mean, 'all the way?' It's five minutes. I wanted somewhere secluded where earth and sea were a big presence."

"Still."

We got back to the car and I was silent, more as a matter of principle than because of any actual annoyance. He laughed.

"You don't get mad at me when I wig out on you but you're mad because you can't fly?"

I turned to face him.

"'Wig out?' Where'd you hear that?"

"You used it the other day about that 'cat lady' yelling at the paperboy the other morning."

I remembered. He'd put her paper in the wrong spot or something --- it was hard to decipher details --- and she'd been up early and screamed a long tirade at him. I'd gone outside to see what the matter was and had seen only her, holding a disgruntled-looking tabby in one arm, and hollering about proper respect for one's elders to a frightened looking kid just under puberty. The recollection broke the mood.

"'Wig out," huh?" I said.

"What?" he said. "You used it. I like it. 'Wig out.' Says just what it needs to."

"I see," I said. "Anyway, I'm not mad at you, I just thought it'd be more impressive than that. Wasn't there a spell or something we could have tried?"

"Not that I know of. But if you really think you've got that gift, we can go talk to Ryne when we get back."

There it was again. _When we get back._ I glanced over at him, trying to be discreet about it. He leaned back against the chair, a small smile on his lips, looking out the window. He felt my gaze and looked over.

"What?"

I smiled. "Nothing."

****

*****************************

A/N: Who's a prompt authoress? *beams* That's right, my friends. An update, in a reasonable amount of time. Booyah. :D Also, I just made, like, a gagillion chocolate chip cookies, so you should all have some just for being so awesome. *passes plate around*

Bingo7: I KNOW. I feel bad for him, too. I'm really glad we're both feeling the same way, lol.

Allyp: All the Maine stuff you sent totally gets me in the mood to write this… Someday I should come up and we should wander Portland and geek out over it, lol. And yes, they are bonded. Which is Significant. Mwaha. Yes, scullery maid artillery… should get back to that one…

InChrist-Billios: I know… isn't it great? I think they should definitely kiss more. *is thoughtful* Hehe.

Caoimhe: Nope, haven't given up and don't plan to. I love this fic WAY too much. :D

KRM-EditorInChief: Lol! Yeah, life gets crazy. But we do eventually make time for the things that really matter… like writing! (And yes, I am totally serious about that, lol.)

Hunchbook: Yay! I'm glad it's not cliché. I too have MAJOR issues with romance --- I work at a library and if I see ONE more copy of "The Highlander's Forbidden Pleasure" I am going to chuck it into the goldfish pond --- so they're not going to reach happily ever after quite that easily.

Gratifying. Heartbreak.: Lol, tell me about it. Here's your update! J

sentimental sweet nothings: Thanks! Good luck on your fic! J


	29. Hope

-1**CHAPTER TWENTY SIX**

"How long does it usually take?" I asked. _Leaf. Leaf. Leaf._

"Leaf," he said. A grin flooded my face.

"Yeah."

"It's getting easier," he said. We were sitting cross-legged in the middle of our living room, facing one another, holding hands. It was a position we'd found facilitated the thought speech; Eran had learned it once a long time ago as a pose that connected both hemispheres of the brain and encouraged flow between two people, and we'd been having good results. We'd first tried it two weeks ago, and every day his responses had been more and more accurate. The wall that had once blocked the space between our minds was like a thin curtain now. "How long does it take for what?"

"For gifts to come out."

"Usually a month or two after the eighteenth birthday," he said. "Up to two years for elusive ones. You're going to be slower, though."

"I know." I sighed. "I just… I can't help thinking that --- Waffles." The word had floated unbidden to my mind and I spoke it without thinking.

"Yes," he said. "Go on."

"I can't help thinking that one of my gifts is going to help me with Rochelle or something," I said. "Or you, maybe. Or… something." _Pencil. Pencil. Pencil._

"Pen?"

"Close."

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for the briefest of seconds. "Pencil."

"Good job."

"I think one of your gifts is," he said. "I think all of them will. But that's only if you have to face her again, and I hope that doesn't become necessary."

_Eggs._

"Eggs," I said. He nodded. I laughed. "Are you hungry or something?"

He shrugged. "I'm sitting facing the kitchen."

"Right."

This kind of blended conversation had peppered our lives the past few days. He seemed better able to understand when he wasn't so focused, and talking aloud appeared to take his mind off what wasn't working and leave only room for what was.

"It's funny," he said after a moment of silence, both in the air and in our thoughts. "I can still see you a little bit."

I knew what he meant. The color of my hair and eyes may have changed, but when I looked in the mirror, I could still see something of Marina underneath the guise of Mary. I could see him too, and seeing him was both easier and more difficult. His appearance had changed little; though his hair and wardrobe had been updated to something suited the modern American male (or foreign, rather; his Merlan accent set him apart) his face was very much the same. His eyes had bothered me the most as first, hollow and empty as they had been, but I could see sparks of life reviving in them again. He couldn't hear anything but me, but that seemed to be enough for now.

"Eyes," he said. I started and blinked.

"You heard that? I wasn't trying."

"Oh. Sorry."

"No, no," I said quickly. "No, I was thinking about eyes. I just wasn't thinking them at you. I wasn't blocking them, though."

Something flashed over his face at the same time something flashed over my mind. I took a calming breath.

_Can you hear this now?_

He tilted his head a little and squinted, as though concentrating.

"Relax," I said. My thumbs, of their own accords, began rubbing softly on his hands, and his fingers responded, as I thought, _Can you hear me?_

He strained again, then took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and in a moment, the thought came.

_Say it again. _His voice, in my head. It had been so long since I had heard it that my stomach jumped a little, half-startled and half-thrilled.

_Can you hear me?_

I was focused intently on his face. The seriousness of the moment was such that I was surprised to see the corner of his mouth twitch.

_Something not so predictable, please._

I squeezed his hands.

_You can hear me?_

_It's very faint. But yes._

His eyes flew open, and a grin washed over his face.

_I can hear you!_

_Anything else?_

_No,_ was the response, but it was happy. _No, just you. Nothing else. But it will come._

I squeezed his hands again, and, instead of a hug, since that would take my hands from his, my forehead dropped to his shoulder and nestled there. He was warm, and he smelled good, and he could hear me. His breath constricted, and I sat up.

"Sorry."

_No,_ he thought. It seemed that, now that he had it back, he wanted to immerse himself in the thought speech. _Do that again._

I hesitated, then obeyed and leaned forward against him.

_Can you feel it?_ he asked, and his voice was louder and clearer in my mind than it had been before. I was quiet. Our breaths fell into the same rhythm, and then, there it was. Another layer of feelings beyond my own, these ones also quiet, also listening.

_Marina,_ he thought. There was a note of disbelief in the idea, and I felt it as well as heard it in his voice.

_I know,_ I said.

Our connection. Our bond. It hadn't been broken. I held still, feeling it, then sat up again. As soon as I did, the connection weakened until it had faded to nothing. I frowned and leaned close to him again. There it was. It was like a radio, being moved around, staticky here and there and then, as I got close to the source, it cleared up and I could tell where he was.

_I'm not making it up?_ he asked, and squeezed my hands.

_No,_ I thought. _No, I can feel it. _

_It's only when you're close to me._

_I know. Why?_

_I don't know, _he thought, and his fingers brushed against mine as mine had done his a moment before. My skin tingled, and as it did, I felt his feelings, under my own, fill with fizzy bubbles and butterflies and then become smoothed over with calm. We were quiet. It was enough to suspend time for the moment and just feel. His hand roved across my back, touching it gently, the nails sending shooting trails of awareness where they grazed the fabric of my shirt. He traced gentle designs, and my breathing slowed and deepened.

I was profoundly aware of him. His body felt strange, warm and alive and a fusion of hard bone and soft muscle, with skin stretched taut but supple all over that frame. I could smell him, a scent that was uniquely his and had something to do with soap and his shirt and something else less tangible. I was aware of the way he breathed, mostly deep and slowly like myself with now and then a catch or a sigh, and I was aware of myself, too, aware of my breath and heartbeat and limbs, and all the nerves that rose into shivery prickles at Eran's touch. I could feel of my fingers with precise clarity. It was impossible to tell whether I was out of my body or intensely in it. It was a profound meditation on humanity, and I wanted to remain in it forever.

And, for a while, at least, it seemed like we might. Nothing disturbed us, not even ourselves. We did nothing more than sit there together and breathe. We were close, but didn't try to get closer, or to move apart. We simply were. I hadn't understood it back in Merlana when Eran had talked sometimes about "just being" as an element of the shephard's practice, but now I did, and the discovery swept me up to a higher level of understanding. The world looked different from here.

_Thank you,_ he thought.

_For what?_

_Not giving up. _He squeezed my arm a little. _I had._

_I know,_ I thought. His feelings were warm, and so were mine. I shifted so I was sitting next to him, and we leaned against the couch. I was tired, and more relaxed than I had been in months, maybe years. My head found its way back to his shoulder pretty quickly, and I soon sank into a contented drowsiness that was something near sleep but not quite there. I was awakened some time later --- it could have been mere moments or an hour --- by a weird tapping noise. I lifted my head; Eran was already looking at the source of the racket, gray eyes reflecting the white rectangle of the window.

A seagull with a yellow crest on its head was tapping at the glass. It flapped its wings wildly, not accustomed to hovering without a breeze. I ran to the window and opened it, and the creature swooped inside and landed on my outstretched hand.

_Princess._

The bird was one of Ryne's. They were his messengers. My mind grew sharp in a moment; I inclined my head. _What is it?_ I asked. _What's the matter?_

_Do not be alarmed,_ it said in a calm, deep, raspy voice. _I bear a message from His Majesty Ryne of Merlana. You must prepare to leave this place tomorrow morning. You will be retrieved in the early hours. _

_Why? What's happened?_

_It would be unwise to speak frankly here, Highness,_ the bird said, a hint of a question in its voice.

_I understand,_ I said. The bird's head twitched in a sharp nod.

_All will be explained when you have returned to Merlana. Arrangements have already been made with your employer and landlord. You must have all personal belongings you wish to take back with you by tonight. Will there be a reply message?_

_No,_ I thought. What could there be to say? I glanced at Eran.

"Did you hear all of that?" I asked.

"Some of it. We're leaving."

"Yeah. Any reply?"

"No," he said. I nodded.

_No message. We'll be ready to depart by midnight. _

_Excellent. _The bird bobbed its head in a sort of aviate bow, and flew from my hand and back out the window in a great rush of wings.

The mood in the room had shifted completely. We were both fully awake. I let out a deep breath.

"Well," I said. "That was sudden." The sound of my voice was oddly loud in the quiet room.

"As it should be," said Eran. When I gave him a quizzical look, he added, "If they're going to get you out of here safely, it's best not to give Rochelle time to catch up, isn't it?"

"What do you think's happened?"

_I don't know. Still, we'd better get packed._

And so we did. I had never seen him quite so cheerful. He hummed and sang soft and bouncy folk songs and snippets of things he'd heard on the radio, and, after some time, had packed a grand total of three books and a postcard of Portland Harbor. I was amused to discover that I was no more attached to anything here than he was. I took some books that I thought would be good additions to the library at the Palace Merlana, a few souvenirs we'd picked up here and there, and a barely-opened bag of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. Nothing else seemed worth bringing along.

_We're not happy to leave or anything, are we?_ I asked wryly as we looked at our bag apiece by the door.

I spent what was left of the day cleaning and leaving the house in order. Any unopened food I took downstairs to the newlyweds, explaining that Aaron and I had been called away for a family emergency and would they mind taking these off our hands so they wouldn't go to waste? They accepted, were very grateful, and I narrowly escaped a long drawn-out conversation by the phone ringing and Carl entering the room informing Mandy that her mother was on the phone. I escaped back up the stairs, glad that we didn't have any other friends to say goodbye to. I wrote a note and bundled the books I was leaving behind to be delivered to Ruth, the note for her and the books for her shop. I would miss her, at least, but it was powerfully outweighed by my delight at returning to Merlana.

If, indeed, we were going back there. I could only hope.

We slept a little on the couch that night, cuddled up against one another. It was peaceful, but hard to get any real rest. Both our stomachs were churning in anticipation. We were like two kids at Christmas, only this, I thought, was much, much better.

"What's Christmas?" he asked drowsily. I smiled in the same sleepy, half-there way.

"It's a holiday," I murmured. "Around winter. Christian celebration. You put up a pine tree and decorate it and have parties and Santa --- this big guy in a red suit --- gives the kids presents."

"Mm," he said. "I've heard of it. We have something kind of like it in the twelfth month. Celebrates the end of the old year."

"I can't wait to see it."

We fell silent again, and the next time we were roused, it was by knocking on the door in sharp staccato patterns. Eran stirred and sat up, then stood.

"That's them," he said. I sat up too and rubbed my eyes. We locked eyes, and then he smiled a little, and I nodded and let out a deep breath.

"Okay," I said. I straightened and faced the door that led to… what? Home, I hoped. "Let's go."

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**Allyp: Lol! Repressed heroes... I love it... And... SHOES? Hahaha... You know, that's even more hilarious considering the symbolic connotations thereof, lol. **

**Bingo7: Lol, they SHOULD have a party. Perhaps that'll have to be arranged. The gifts go back to her 18th birthday --- when the monarchy of Merlana comes of age, magical gifts start to develop (ex: Ryne's flight and ability to paint things that then happen).**

**InChrist-Billios: Haha, thanks. I rather liked the "Wig out" bit myself. :D And yeah, I think you're on the right track with being bonded and all that. There's more to it, but I shall shut up before I give everything away, lol.**

**KRM-EditorInChief: Oh, do I understand! You are rather on the right track, though I shan't say anything more here...**

**raeroochella: Glad you made it all the way through, congrats! ;) I like the idea of Christmas presents... Christmas did get mentioned in this chapter so it's got definite possibilities. Glad you find it uncliched; one of my goals in life is to avoid predone corniness. If that phrase made ANY sense whatsoever, lol.**


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